


Hopeless Wanderer

by NattieFOURLarry



Series: Hopeless Wanderer [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe, Childhood Sweethearts, Falling In Love, Love, Love at First Sight, M/M, No Fluff, Past Abuse, Police Officer Louis, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-25 15:03:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 53,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9825719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NattieFOURLarry/pseuds/NattieFOURLarry
Summary: You’re right.You’re so right and I ache knowing I cannot be with you.I want your heart.I want you.Harry…you’re perfect.Harry you bring me life.Harry please.I have to see you. I want to see you.I made a mistake.I need your touch. I need your everything.I need you.I think I am falling apart.





	1. Cry

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to give this another chance.  
> I loved this story and after re-reading it I realized just how awful it was! So I apologize for that.
> 
> I wanted to make sure that all are aware...there are some graphic scenes. I am very sorry for not tagging this work better and I hope you can forgive me.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this edited version.  
> I am still working on it so please try not to read ahead.
> 
> I really hope you like it.

**Scene One: Louis’ Room, 05:15 AM**

The dream feels surreal, life like, something erotic, pleasure inducing, an impossible act, an all-encompassing feeling he cannot fathom losing.

His toes start to curl, his fingers have since gone numb from gripping the sheets, his breathing picks up as the imminent orgasm looms in the air just above him and out of reach. He'll release it all; the stress, the longing, the awaited affection he unfortunately craves. It'll be heavenly, mystical, a fucking dream come true...he knows it. And his body is waiting, his mind prepared, his heart ready to take the plunge...he's _right there_.

He focuses on the touch, the sensations, the finger prints as they leave their mark on his exposed, over sensitized skin. He can barely suppress his subdued cries, contain his whimpering. It's everywhere, consuming his very being, eating him alive, becoming borderline painful he needs it so badly.

Just one more thrust and he'll be over the precipice, one more pump and it's all his. _God, please. Just...one...more…it’s all I ask for-_

The taste it leaves on the tip of his tongue practically makes him gasp at the sound of his incessant alarm. The fucking alarm awakening him from his fantasy, from his pretend dreamland where he is wanted, his figment of his imagination where he is someone's fixation...their entire world.

_Fuck._

He feels the familiar sting behind his eyelids as the wetness gathers onto his lower lashes, the sadness, the failure. It's what he should expect. It's what he was waiting for. It was only a matter of time for...reality to sink in an haunt him.

_Oh reality...I loathe you._

Reality always snuck up on him and obliterated any sort of happiness his mind could conjure. Reality would always reveal its ugly truth and hurt he's become used to. Reality would always ground him, clarify his mind...squash any hope he could have possibly found or scrounge up and protect. He's just-

“Pathetic. I'm pathetic.” He sleepily rubs at his eyes as he settles his heart rate and regulates his breathing. That was the most intense dream he's had to date and it frightens him that he could fabricate such a lie while he slept. He prays he'll never be subjected to such treachery in the future, never have to be lead towards false hope again. It's taxing on his fragile mind and even more so on his pride. So he wonders if he'll ever catch a break, if maybe his years of bad luck will cease and reveal something positive, warmth, an invitation...He aches. His brain is cluttered. He needs peace.

Without another thought, he smacks the alarm with his free hand. “I hate you.” He states matter of fact towards the inanimate object. “The worst.” He pulls down the heavy comforter and is greeted with two brown Tabby cats that immediately change his mood, cleanse his mind with a calming sensation. “Good morning boys. How are we today?” Both felines run up the duvet towards his face. He smiles and pets both of them behind the ears in unison, giving each cat equal attention. “Who wants to eat?” George and Luke run off the bed and into the hallway leading to the kitchen. “Pigs.” He watches them disappear around the corner. 

He sits up stretching and feels a sharp ache in his lower back. “Ugh…” Is all he has. There is no explanation. The only relief he has is rubbing the soreness and hoping it subsides eventually.

With calculated movements, he removes the bedding from his legs and emerges slowly from the confines of the sheets. He feels wound up, off-kilter, completely thrown off track. _What's wrong with me?_ _Was my dream that believable?_

Louis absently rubs his left bicep as he walks towards the door taking in the state of his room that is in complete disarray. His work gear is strewn about, cat toys hiding in the corners, days-worth of laundry thrown vicariously on the arm of a chair, and a light blue blazer hanging neatly on the door knob.

He hates overanalyzing, regrets that he asks too many questions, despises how little confidence he has. Something is not right though so he has a right to be suspicious.

He looks at the jacket once more. _He left it...why? What was the purpose? Will this bite me in the ass?_  He rubs his arm again leaving his mess behind.

**Scene 2: Louis’ kitchen, 05:30 AM**

He walks into the kitchen to find George and Luke sitting next to the cabinet.

Luke, the smaller of the two, runs to Louis’ feet crying and begging with his sweet mews and soft purrs, imploring Louis to simply feed him, to get on with it already because he's _starving_ and must eat right away. Meanwhile, George, the slightly overweight cat (Louis swears he isn’t), sits and waits patiently silently pleading with his big green adoring eyes.

He can't help but watch them, take in their innocence and endless affection. He loves his cats. They’re his world when everyone else has turned their back, his lifeline when he loses sight, his distraction from his thoughts, a source of warmth. They reassure him that everything will be okay.

_Temporarily._

He stares back at them one last time before he feeds them and gets ready for his morning run.

 **Scene 3: Louis’ kitchen, 06:45 AM**  

Seven miles later, Louis is back and making himself tea, formulating a plan for his day and still attempting to decipher that dream.

It rattled him, _frightened_ him that he could feel so free, so pleased, so _loved_. He isn't exactly sure what it all means, if a dream could actually foresee a future event or tell a story that's to come. There are countless theories as to their meaning but he's certain it's nothing. Absolutely nothing. _It's make believe._ Because shit like that doesn't happen. _It doesn't fucking happen._

Once the tea is ready, he pours himself a mug full and heads to the bathroom. As he passes through the bedroom, he disregards the blue coat, blocks out that part of his life he is sure is the source of his pain and his sore back, attempts to recover any semblance of hope he's had for the day. _It'll be okay. I'll be fine-_

He feels the tears in his eyes anyway and can only submit to the overwhelming fear that his life will be changing soon and spiral into nothingness  He lost all control and can only sit back and watch as it falls to pieces because honestly what else can he do?

He inhales deeply feeling the oxygen fill his lungs to the brim, feels his brain refocus and concentrate on the task at hand: his career.

He swipes at his eyes and turns on the shower.

**Scene 4: Louis’ Car, 07:30 AM**

The precinct isn’t far from his house.

When he chose this particular neighborhood, Gardena, California, he had two requirements:  he must be near the beach and within an hour’s drive to work. Therefore, he found himself here, living in a gray bungalow with a bright red door. It's home sweet home, his escape, his place to make memories, his very own. _Well, sort of._ He internally kicks himself. It's a house with four walls that he happens to reside in. That's all.

He is en-route to work when he feels his phone start to buzz in the pocket of his sweatpants. _Who the fuck_...Louis’ heart jumps when he makes note of the caller on the dashboard of his Mustang. _Oh no._ He gulps down the sob rising in his throat.

“Not now…please.” He begs. The phone continues to buzz non-stop until Louis builds up enough courage to answer it. He takes a deep breath and hits the accept call button on the steering wheel. “Hi-”

“Lewis, seriously?” He is cut off.

“W-what happened?” He stutters.

“I forgot my blazer at your place. You were supposed to remind me.” 

“I uh-...what?”  _Was I? Did he say that?_

“Exactly. Now I have to drive back to your shithole to get it.” Louis rolls his eyes at the insult.

“You’ve got legs. _Use_ them.” He bites his tongue. _Fuck! What’s wrong with me!?_ Louis starts to bounce his leg up and down in worry. “Um, sorry. That was-”

“I plan on it.” The line goes dead leaving the car in complete silence save for Louis’ heart pounding in his chest. He swears he can hear his blood pumping underneath his skin as the quiet closes in on him, swears he can feel the tears work their way forward and into his eyes, swears he'll build up enough courage one day and stand his ground...but not now. Not when his future feels uncertain, not when he has so much hanging on the line.

Not when he knows his heart will shatter into a million pieces leaving him utterly alone and devastated. 

 **Scene 5: Hollywood Community Precinct, 08:20 AM**  

Louis arrives at the precinct with plenty of time to spare.

He parks towards the rear of the lot to avoid any reckless drivers hitting his new car. It’s a little bit of a walk but he doesn’t care, he has to keep it prestine. _Maybe I should have waited another year_. He thinks solemnly to himself. _I really can't afford it and honestly? It is worth it?_ He mulls that over for a quick moment. _Nah, I deserve it. God knows I’ve been through enough shit._

He makes himself a promise before opening the car door...to not harp on it, don't think, just do, act like everything is fine... it'll work. _It has to or I might break down in public._ His fellow officers cannot witness this side of him, his fucked up side, his emotionally unstable side, his life outside the precinct essentially. _They'll hate me for sure…or find me stupid for_ not _leaving. Either way, it'll hurt._ He places a well-practiced grin on his face and steps out of the Mustang ignoring the constant throbbing he’s become accustomed to.

“Hey, Louis!” Louis whips his head around at the familiar voice.

“Hi Liam.” They begin walking to the precinct. "How was last night?"

“Good, quiet.” Liam works the overnight tours along with his partner Zayn.

“No tourists? Or are they only around during the day?”

“Oh god no! I think they’re worse because most of the time they’re completely drunk.” Liam responds. “They all want to find a celebrity or take a photo with them. It’s obnoxious.”

“It makes things interesting, no?” Louis smiles while rubbing his left bicep feeling the ghost of a hand encircling his arm. The feeling is making his skin crawl. _It's not real. You're okay._

“Fuck no! It’s the same nonsense every time! And those damned paparazzi? Ugh…they love putting themselves in harm’s way for a stupid photo. It’s like they want to get hurt so they can sue and make easy money.”

“Yeah, I guess. Maybe they’re contracted and need to make a quota.” He shrugs.

“Whatever…it’s just annoying.” They reach the precinct doors. “Anyway, have a good day, man. I’ll see you in a week!”

“Yup.” He gives a short wave and heads to the locker room to change. _Good. I’ve got this…it’ll be okay._ He reassures himself as he methodically puts his uniform on reminding himself not to break his promise. _Lie if you have to._ When he is finished, he heads to Lieutenant Campbell’s office to receive his orders for the day. 

“Hi Danielle.” Louis says when he peers in.

“Hi Tomlinson. Please sit down?” She is sitting behind her desk with a stern look on her face as she glares intently at the computer screen.

“What’s the deal for today?” 

“We have a new recruit-” 

“I AM LATE!! I’m freaking LATE!!” Louis turns around to find a blonde haired boy standing in the doorway. “I am SO sorry! I couldn’t find my gun and my badge was stuck on my pants, my mom insisted I eat a good breakfast and and and-”

“Horan, it’s fine. Please sit down.” She motions towards the chair next to Louis. The blonde plops down silently. “This is Officer Louis Tomlinson. He will be your trainer for the next few days.” Horan looks over at Louis with wide, almost comical, blue eyes. 

“Wait…a Sergeant will be TRAINING me!? Oh my god-”

“I am not one yet, calm down.” Louis smiles to himself understanding the way this young kid feels. On Louis’ first day, he almost forgot to wear boxers. 

“Niall, Louis here is one of our most experienced officers we have and will show you the ropes until he is promoted. You will learn a lot from him…I promise.” He feels heat flood his cheeks. “I wanted you to head to the strip but I received an early morning call from one of the managers at Capital Records confirming that an A List celebrity will be arriving around 0900 hours for a recording session. Apparently, they have a large fan base and want to keep the crowds in check. They requested police presence.” The Lieutenant shakes her head in dismay. “Our crime rate is skyrocketing and we have to babysit a celebrity.” She sighs. “Take the unmarked car…It’ll be less conspicuous.” 

“Who is it?!” Niall asks with enthusiasm. _I like him._

“That is classified…” Danielle responds. She looks at the two officers. “Okay fine, some Australian group…5 Seconds of Spring…Winter…? I don’t know.” 

“5 SECONDS OF SUMMER! That’s so cool. This is SO COOL. Let’s GO!” Niall jumps up from his seat as the excitement emanates off of him in waves. 

“Oh…kay.” Louis winces at the unrelenting pain in his back as he stands. “I will meet you out front, Horan.” The blue eyed boy waves and leaves the room. “So this Friday is the ceremony?” 

“Yes, it will begin around 10am. Do you plan on inviting anyone? I will reserve seats.” 

“Um…” Louis thinks for a moment… _He better come_. “Yes, just one.” 

“One…? No family members or friends?” Danielle looks at him with a questioning look mixed with pity. He hates it. Louis shakes his head not wanting to get into details. “Fine, one it is.” She plasters a smile on her face. “Good luck with Horan. He seems a bit…eccentric.” 

“It’s refreshing actually.” 

“You haven’t worked with Har-” Her phone rings. She looks at Louis with a pleading look. “I need to take that.”

“See you later.” Louis gives a small wave as he exits the office. 

**Scene 6: Hollywood Community Precinct, parking lot, 08:45 AM**

“Niall, hurry up. We have to get to the studio before the band arrives…that would be helpful.” Louis groans noticing the younger cop fiddling with his gun belt. 

“This thing is heavy. I feel like my pants are gonna fall off!”

“Um…tighten it around your waist.” He points to his. “See?”

“Easy for you to say, you have hips.” Niall jests. Louis glares at him with loathing in his eyes.  He hates his hips and more so his ass. They seem to get more attention than his face and personality. 

“I do not. Leave me and my hips alone.” They walk over to the unmarked black Chevy Impala. 

“Can I drive…?” Horan asks innocently enough and Louis literally bursts out laughing. 

“Absolutely not, rookie!” He takes in the blonde’s appearance. “Where is your hat?” Niall curses under his breath and runs back to the precinct.

Louis gets into the driver’s seat, and turns on the engine. _I guess we're all awkward when we start_. He feels his phone buzz in his pocket. _What now?!_ He pulls it free and sees a text from-

 _Why though_. 

Louis starts to fervently rub his bicep. He glances at the screen and quickly reads the messages...noting that he'll “see him later” and “his room is a fucking mess”. And just… _I didn't know we had plans tonight._ If he recalls correctly. Did they discuss plans last night? Did he forget? _Am I this stupid I can't even remember?_ He quickly replies with an OK and shoves the phone into his pants putting that little issue on the back burner. _Focus._

“LET’S GOOO!” Niall hops into the car with his crisp blue hat on his head.

“First off...” Louis starts as he turns in his seat to look at the boy. “Do not be too excited about our assignment. We will be confined to this car for probably the entire day. And secondly…” Louis stops for a second before continuing, choosing his words carefully. “Civilians won’t take you seriously with an overly enthusiastic attitude…” He notices Niall’s face fall, the gesture making him feel sorry. _I actually really like you._ “I am only speaking from experience, okay? I was like you too.” The young recruit shakes his head sadly as he looks out the front window.

“Are you always such a downer?”  Louis ignores the question and backs out of the space. 

_I have my reasons._

**Scene 7: Capital Records, 08:58 AM**

Louis and Niall park across the street from the studio.

They both exit the car and walk towards a very large man wearing a shirt saying “SECURITY” in white, bold lettering. Louis swears the dude's arms are the size of his torso. 

“Um, hi. I’m Officer Tomlinson and this is-” 

“They sent the B squad, eh?” The brute starts.

“What?” He crosses his arms over his chest.

“I guess the other officers are out stopping the real crime?” The man chuckles more to himself. Louis wants to punch this douche in the face. He isn’t _that small_ …maybe compared to this beast, sure. But he is one of the _best_ officers in his precinct and he will not let this fucker get to him. _Not at work. You can't fuck with me here._

“Right. As I was stating, I am Officer Tomlinson and this is Officer Horan. We received orders from Lieutenant Campbell that you required police presence. So here we are.” 

“Yes.” The man begins. “The band is actually running late. The name’s Higgins. Paul Higgins and I am the lead Security guard. If you don’t mind, please station yourself towards the side entrance. That’s where the band will enter from.” Louis shakes his head. _I am hoping this is for training purposes ONLY_.

“Sure.” Louis looks to Niall. “Alright we have to move.” They get back into the unmarked car. “Today will be quite uneventful…” He outwardly groans….and sure enough he was correct.

The tour went on agonizingly slow.

So they filled their time with police academy stories and anything to distract them from the hordes of young screaming girls outside the building. _I mean don't their voices ever tire from all that yelling?_ _Aren't they exhausted? My voice feels strained and I haven't raised it once._

Louis kept most (aka all) of his personal life out of the conversation but the blonde easily opened up to him, spilling his guts and then some.

“I grew up in San Diego with my folks.” Niall says. “They own an Irish pub right on the beach so I worked there until I left for college in LA.”

“What did you major in?”

“Pre-law actually. But I couldn’t see myself as a lawyer, slaving away, working until my eyes bled. So I decided to become a cop instead.”

“How old are you?” Louis asks him out of curiosity. 

“Twenty two.” The boy grunts. “I feel so old.” 

“Yeah right. You’re not old. You haven’t experienced anything yet. Don’t rush it or you’ll regret it.” _I should consider taking my own advice._  

“How old are you then?”

“I just turned twenty nine in December.”

“OH MAN!!! You _are_ old.” Niall jokes again. Louis should be mad but he just shrugs his shoulders and agrees.

“Whatever. I guess I am…I get pains in my back and neck.” He pauses. “Could be arthritis.” The blonde makes a face at that. “I'm kidding.” _Actually it's from getting fucked on a nightly basis...but that's not for you to know._ A call comes over the radio disrupting their last thought informing them to return to the precinct around 1700 hours. The clock reads 4:54.

“Arthritis? You get that at thirty?”

“Hey now, I am not thirty yet.” Louis turns the car on. “Alright, _officer_ , let’s head back.”

They take the short drive to the precinct and park the Impala. Niall hops out and waves to Louis to hurry up.

“Come on Gramps!!” Louis flips him off and emerges from the car, forgetting about his- He cannot help but recoil from the sharp pain erupting from his lower back, the throb singing to him in a discordant tone. “You weren’t kidding…you okay there?” The recruit rounds the car towards him.

“Yah…yeah I am.” He squeaks out. “Don’t worry about it. I will meet you inside.” Niall looks at him with apprehension and starts his trek to the building. Louis sits back down on the seat to breathe as he watches the blonde walk with little to no effort. He touches his sore back to ease some of the tension and ache. _I-I can't let him do this to me._ He scrunches his eyes closed. It's bad today…like really bad. His phone buzzes in his pocket. “What now!?” He hastily retrieves it and can barely believe his eyes.

Eighteen unread texts, four missed calls.

“No…no! No! NO!” His leg starts to uncontrollably bounce as he rubs his left bicep. “Fuck, he’s going to kill me.” He mumbles in utter fear as he stares at the screen. How could he not notice his phone going off in his pocket? _How can you ignore him? He does so much for you. How can you let him down?_ He cautiously picks up the phone and puts it to his ear…“H-hello?” His voice cracks.

“Look who decides to finally answer.” 

“Please-” 

“Why are you like this!” The man yells. Louis can feel the anger emanating through the receiver, the hatred seeping into his soul. “I have been trying to call you all _fucking_ day.”

“I know, but-” Louis tries to slip in something…anything to diffuse the situation. 

“NO, listen here you ungrateful shit. I am sick and tired of being ignored when I am trying to get in contact with you! What if I had an emergency? What would I do then, huh? Get your fuckin act together. I expect you to be ready by 6pm SHARP.” He hangs up the phone while Louis just sits in the car registering what was thrown at him. 

“Yes, sir.” He whispers to himself after a full minute. He slowly stands up from the seat and walks back to the precinct with his head hanging low. “I am so fucked.”

_Literally and figuratively._

**Scene 8: Hollywood Community Precinct, 05:15 PM**

_What am I going to do? What excuse can I make? Should I lie?_

As Louis turns the corner to enter the main office, he lands headfirst into someone’s chest. He was so lost in thought he hadn't realized someone was coming. _See? This is what happens when you let him win._

Two hands lightly touch his biceps prompting him to look up with confusion. _Huh?_ He is greeted with a set of green irises, unnaturally pink lips, and a jawline he would love to run his lips over. 

“I am SO sorry.” Louis manages to choke out. He keeps staring at this person standing before him. _Why is he so beautiful? How is he so fucking perfect? Why is he wearing a beanie? It’s too warm out_.

“That’s fine. Are you alright? You shouldn’t walk with your head so low, Sergeant.” This voice is angelic, heavenly, soothing, deep, sexy…is that a hint of an English accent? _What is going on here?_  

“I am not a Sergeant yet, actually.” Louis corrects him. 

“OH. My apologies.” The random man smiles. Louis’ stomach does a dance in response. “I work the overnight and heard you were going to be the new sergeant sooo…I just assumed…Anyway...uh…”

“Why are you working the day tour if you do overnights?”

“Overtime.” He replies.

“I see…” Louis wants to vomit from his lameness. _I guess it doesn't matter...I don't have to impress him...or do I?_

“Do you remember me?” Louis cannot seem to hide his perplexed facial expression. “I guess not…I’m Officer Styles, er- Harry Styles.” He extends his hand out for a shake.

“You’re so tall.” _What the fuck though!?_ “I uh…wow, yes hi, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Officer.” He finally manages to extend his own hand. Harry smiles warmly showing perfectly straight teeth and a dimple. _Are those curls creeping out from under his hat?_

“Well, I guess I will see you soon then. You start next Monday is it?” 

“Mo-Monday, yes.” Stuttering now? _I am such an awkward_ fuck. “Yes, I will see you Monday night. Who is your partner?” 

“Sandy! We make a pretty good team…we won’t cause you any problems. Scouts honor.” Harry holds up his other hand in a peace sign, still smiling. _GOD that smile…please stop smiling_. Louis pulls his hand away. 

“Right…okay so, Monday night. I will see you then.” If he doesn’t end the conversation now…God knows what will happen. He turns away to head to the Lieutenant’s office.

“Bye, Sergeant! Aah…you know what I mean.” Louis looks back to steal another glance but only see’s the man’s back and long…long legs. _I want those legs wrapped around me_. He mentally slaps himself. _Bad thoughts... very bad._

“Shut up, Tomlinson” He whispers as he walks to Danielle’s office. “I was going to head out. I have a…doctor’s appointment at six.” He lies. If he were truthful... _Never._

“How was Niall today?” 

“Good. He will be fine. Kid’s got a great head on his shoulders.”

“I like to hear that. He will eventually move to the overnight with you and the others.” The Lieutenant states. “But that’s a discussion for another time. I will let you go. See you tomorrow.” Louis quickly leaves the office and looks at his phone. 

“5:15?! Fuck!!” He runs to the locker room and changes as quickly as he can. His clothes will no doubt be a wrinkled mess in the morning but if he doesn't leave now…really he doesn’t want to find out!

He yells a quick good bye to his coworkers and runs out of the building to his car. 

Now he wishes he parked closer…

 **Scene 9: Louis’ car, 05:25 PM**  

He gets into the driver’s seat, listens to the engine roar to life and hastily makes his way to the exit. He’s sweating. Everywhere.  If the space between his fingertips could sweat, that would be too.

He's driving erratically, barely obeying traffic laws, hardly paying attention at all. He's transfixed, mind occupied, hands moving of their own volition to get him home.

He groans at every red light he hits, curses the slow drivers, and slides through every stop sign.

_What have I become?_

Louis arrives at his house with fifteen minutes to spare still debating how he got here in one peace.

**Scene 10: Louis’ House, 05:45 PM**

He cuts the engine and runs in.

He greets the cats with a quick kiss to both of their heads and strips out of his sweats and baggy t-shirt. He darts into the shower, cleans himself as fast as he can and jumps out feeling the exhaustion seep under his eyelids and into his limbs.

He styles his hair and takes a long look at himself hating the reflection the longer he stands there. All he sees is a man with dull blue eyes, downturned mouth, scruffy cheeks, and pale skin. This isn't him….this isn't who he was meant to become, some mindless freak being strung along. _Who are you? And can the real Louis please stand up?_ He sighs and walks to the bedroom to find a suitable outfit to wear.

He looks in the closet eyeing the selection before him. A light denim button down? A plain white tee with a blazer? A band shirt? _Just PICK something you indecisive twat_. He can never play a roll, be something he just isn’t...not for a night, and not ever. No matter how hard someone may try... _I can only be me…but who am I? I am nothing without him._ He throws on the button down, a pair of dark washed skinny jeans, and grabs a pair of white vans.

Louis retrieves a watch from the dresser, sits on the ottoman at the foot of his bed, and puts his sneakers on. He hates this, hates running around, hates having all of this pressure placed on him. He should feel comfort, feel like he is _home_ , not feel like his heart is pounding out of his chest or his head about to explode. He wants to live peacefully and happily, be at ease…He sighs and hastily fastens the Rolex to his tiny wrist, the overpriced watch he received for his twenty seventh birthday, the watch he never wears, the watch he wants to melt down and sell. _I hate this stupid thing_. It was a stupid, meaningless gift that only proved one thing: _he_ has money and Louis does not.

He hears the front door open and _fuck_ it’s time.

He gathers his strength and closes his eyes for what’s to come, to expect the unexpected, to take what’s given, to be the person he was not meant to be.

“Get the fuck out of my way!” The man yells from the entryway. “Lewis!” 

That’s his cue.

He takes a deep, yet shaky, inhale, tentatively stands up and goes to greet his boyfriend of fifteen years. 

And it should not be this difficult, this nerve-wracking, this terrifying. They've known each other since they were fourteen...and this is how Louis is going to act _forever_? Living in fear? Afraid of simply breathing the wrong way? He’s only twenty nine…he cannot imagine being alive for another thirty.

“Hi Stanley.” Louis whispers as he enters the main living space eyeing the man.

“Are you ready?” Stan stares into Louis’ blue eyes with an expressionless face. 

“Um…y-yeah I am. I just need to feed George and Luke.” He walks to the kitchen to attend to the felines. “You boys be good.” He coos. “You’re the men of the house!”

“Oh God. Save it will you?” 

“What? They’re adorable.” Louis smiles down at the cats. He feels Stan’s arms wrap around his abdomen in a too tight embrace that slightly takes his breathe away…and not in a good way. His boyfriend slaps a wet kiss on his temple lingering just long enough to disgust him slightly. Because really? A kiss on his _temple?!_ _Is he wearing new cologne? It’s too sweet._ “I want a proper kiss if you don’t mind.” Louis turns in his arms as best he can and places his mouth on Stan's. “I’m sorry about not calling you back. I have a new recruit who requires my attention.” He whispers.

“Whatever…I’m over it.” Stan detaches himself and walks to the front door. “Are you finished with the animals?” 

“Yes…” Louis takes in Stan’s appearance. He’s wearing a light blue suit that was specifically tailored to him; the material hugs him in all of the right places and it's simply unfair. His hair is combed to the side with a slight bump in the front making him look professional, yet utterly handsome. Everything matches; his cufflinks, bowtie with little blue polka dots, handkerchief, and socks. He is impeccable. _Maybe he had a new client today?_

Louis looks down at himself, licks his dry lips and sighs. “Let’s go.”

_Always lacking…_

**Scene 11: The Strand House, Manhattan Beach, 06:15 PM**  

Stan and Louis emerge from the house and make their way to the Audi.

Dread overtakes him as he sits down in the passenger seat. He hates this car, hates the memories it holds, especially the backseat. He wonders why his boyfriend took this tonight instead of the truck. _Impressing someone?_ He swallows back a sob.

“What’s the look for?” Stan questions as he starts the engine. He didn’t even realize he made one.

“Nothing.” He responds turning away.  

“Well, obviously it's something so just say it.” The stinging in his back starts to pulse.

“I really don't-” 

“OH! Is it because I fucked you so hard into the seat you cried for three days straight?” Louis looks at him with disbelief. Yeah it hurt…it ALWAYS hurts. But isn’t that the way it’s supposed to be? “I guess I was right.”

“What?” Louis squeaks.

“Don’t be such a little bitch about it. You love when you bottom.” 

“I _only_ bottom.” Louis looks ahead at the road holding his hands so tightly his knuckles turn white.  _Ignore the pain._

“I…ah yes that would be correct.”  _I'm a toy. A plaything. An object._

“Where are we going?” He turns his face hiding his reddening cheeks and bloodshot eyes.

“Manhattan Beach. A client recommended the Strand House. It’s right on the water.”

“What’s the occasion?” He sniffles. 

“Does there have to be one? What if I actually want to take you out?”  _You never fucking do!_

“Uh…sorry.” Louis looks down at his hands. His fingers are getting a purple tinge to them so he loosens his death grip. “Why are you so calm? You were angry earlier.” Where the courage came from to ask Louis will never know…and most likely regret for questioning his boyfriend's motives.

“I honestly forgot about the entire ordeal. Just drop it and stop bringing it up.” Stan never removes his eyes from the road making Louis sink lower into his seat. “I hate when you pull this shit.” 

“I can’t help it-” 

“You’re getting worse. Just STOP and live a little.” _How, when you constantly put me down!?_ They turn onto Manhattan Beach Boulevard and drive to their destination without another word. 

Once they arrive, Stan stops the car and hands his keys to the valet driver.

“Not a scratch on her. She’s worth more than what you folks make in a year…a LOT more.” Stan tells the attendant matter of fact. Louis cannot believe his ears when he emerges from the vehicle.

“Please forgive him…it seems he lost his manners.” Louis slips the attendant a twenty (his _last_ twenty) and rushes to his boyfriend’s side. “What the hell was that back there? You can’t treat people like that!”

“What is it with you today?” _I had this dream._  

“What if some rich snob spoke to me like that?” He quips, his anger getting the best of him. _And you acted different._  

“Huh? You’re a police officer-”

“Soon to be sergeant.” _You looked at me with adoration._  

“…a Sergeant. You have a respectable career. Sort of, you know what I mean…oh just shut up and let’s go inside.” Stan seizes Louis’ left bicep in a vice like grip- _Ugh…not again-_ And is practically dragged into the chic restaurant like a small child. “You are not dressed properly. Those Vans need to go.” _You said you loved me._  

“Why didn’t you say anything earlier? I didn’t know your intentions until I asked you! Now I will stand out. I hate that.” Louis looks down at his outfit regretting everything.  _You nearly made me climax with your touch._

“At least your hair looks good.” Stan says in a nonchalant tone. Louis rolls his eyes as they continue into the restaurant. _But I woke up._

“Welcome! Party of 2?” The Hostess greets them. _And reality proved me wrong._  

“Yes, the reservation is under Lucas.” Stan states.

“Ah yes! I see your name right here...This way please.” The lady takes two large menus and what looks to be a wine list and leads them into the crowded restaurant. They’re seated on the second level patio that overlooks the ocean. “Here are your menus and the wine list. Your server will be around shortly. Enjoy!” The hostess turns on her heel and walks away leaving the two men alone. Louis picks up the menu and looks at it to distract himself. He knows Stan will order for them so he doesn’t know why he even bothers. 

“Hi gentlemen.” Both men look up to see their waitress. She’s younger than expected with bleach blonde hair, brown eyes, and warm smile. He notes the hamsa earrings in her ears too. “My name is Natale and I will be taking care of you this evening. Did you get a chance to review the wine list?” Louis looks at Stan. 

“Uh…yeah we will take a bottle of the Opus One.” Stan replies. The server looks up at him for confirmation. 

“Sure. Do you want water for the table?” She asks. 

“I’d like a seltzer please.” Louis speaks in a small voice never really removing his eyes from the menu. She smiles at him and writes down his order. 

“Lemon or Lime?” 

“N-no. That’s okay. No ice either.” Louis replies. 

“I will be back with your drinks. Look over the menu and let me know if you have any questions.” She leaves them to attend to other guests.

A basket of bread and butter is brought over soon after igniting Louis’ hunger. Now that he recalls, he hasn't eaten all day...Literally. So he doesn’t hesitate when he reaches to take a piece but Stan slaps his hand away. 

“Ow. What was that for?”

“You will ruin your appetite. Plus, you’re getting a little plumper around the middle.” Louis gapes.

“What?” He looks down at himself and pinches his stomach feeling the small tummy underneath his shirt. _No bread, jackass. You’re getting fat. Stan doesn’t like you when you’re chubby._ “I…okay I won’t have any then.” He settles into his seat as the waitress returns with their bottle of too expensive wine and room temperature Seltzer.

She expertly pours the red liquid into the glasses without spilling a drop. “Are you ready to order?” Natale asks politely.

“Yes, tubby over here will have the Branzino and I will get the New Zealand lamb rack cooked medium rare.” Stan looks at Louis with a smirk. _Tubby?!_ He looks down at himself and turns red from the insult.  _Suddenly I’m not hungry anymore._

“Sure!” Natale remains a little longer. “Is that all?” She glances towards Louis. “Sir?” Louis looks up with glassy eyes and she quickly studies his face with obvious concern. _I hate that look. Please don’t stare._  

“Y-yeah, that’s all. T-Thank you” He smirks hiding his horror. Natale simply walks away with their orders. _It’s for the best_. “Stanley. Why did you say that?”

“I was joking! What is with you, seriously? You are like a child, get over yourself.” _You treat me like one too._ Stan takes out his phone and starts to fervently text. “This Friday I have an important client at 10am. They want to view the Italian Villa in Beverly Hills. If this deal goes through I’ll be the highest paid agent at the firm!” Stan is a real estate agent for Sotheby’s. He mostly sells multi-million dollar homes to private foreign investors and world renowned business moguls, never really straying too far from the LA area. He has a fancy office in Beverly Hills and an even _fancier_ private secretary which Louis suspects has a crush on _his boyfriend_ but he could just be seeing things. _I hope_. He does well for himself and Louis can’t help but get a pang of jealousy in the pit of his stomach. The money literally flies out of the man’s ass while he has to work endless amounts of overtime to make ends meet. Louis is proud of his career choice though, he is well respected by fellow officers, is considered one of the best cops in his precinct, and he’s being promoted Friday...speaking of… 

“Wait, Friday? This Friday?!” Louis asks. 

“Yes, are you deaf and stupid?” 

“That’s my Sergeant’s ceremony. I want you there!” Louis cannot believe what he is hearing. This is one of the most important moments in his life and his own boyfriend can’t make it because he has a client?! 

“Louis, you do understand that this is a huge break for me. Some English entrepreneur is looking to drop a pretty penny on this listing. I _cannot_ and _will not_ miss this appointment. Why are you so selfish?” Stan stops for a moment to gather his thoughts.

“I told you about it weeks ago. I thought you’d remember.”

“Do you want to see me fail? Or are you jealous of my success? My financial situation?” Louis flinches at the insinuation. He admits to be jealous but he would _never_ tell Stan that. EVER.

“How can you say this to me? When have I ever given you that impression? I have a job, a car, a home-”

“That I OWN. I bought that house for you.”

“Uh…yeah-” Louis looks down again and rubs his left bicep. _About that…it is just four walls…Im just the pitiful cosigner._

“Face it. You cannot survive this lifestyle without me. You _need_ me.” Stan states, his voice a notch higher than earlier. “Look at me.” Louis looks up with tears threatening to spill over. “And don’t you fuckin cry. You look like a fuckin pussy when you cry.”

“I won’t.” Louis is so quiet he can barely hear himself. He swallows back his sorrow and sits uncomfortably in his seat. _Ignore the prying eyes…ignore everyone_.

The rest of their time at the restaurant is silent even after their entrees come. Stan seems content on the quiet and digs in without even a glance at him as he plays with his food taking small calculated bites. _Chubby…I am getting chubby._ He keeps reciting the line in his mind as he brings another forkful to his lips. _He wants me light so I’m easier to control…easily manipulated._

“Is that all for this evening?” The server comes back. 

“Yes. May we please have the check?” Stan replies. _And_ _I'm starving._

**Scene 12: Stan’s car, 08:30 PM**

They drive back to Louis’ in more silence.

 _I cant do this on my own. I need Stan. I need him. He needs me too, he just doesn’t know it yet._  

“Thanks for dinner.” Louis says out of the blue thinking it's the right thing to do. 

“You barely touched your food. How could you have possibly enjoyed it?” This man makes his head spin.

“Well, what I did taste. It was delicious.” He recovers hoping he sounds sincere because really, he did not eat much at all.  _Chubby._

“Yeah, okay.” Stan pulls into the drive behind the black Mustang and pulls out his phone. He opens the door and watches his boyfriend as he gingerly stands up. _Is the night over?_   He can’t hide his disdain when his boyfriend pockets the phone and follows him.

_Damnit._

He thinks he can feel his back scream at him in protest.

**Scene 13: Louis’ House, 09:00 PM**

Once inside, George and Luke immediately run up to Louis rubbing on his legs in greeting.

“Hi boys! Did you keep the house safe?” Louis pets their heads in unison with a genuine smile. _I love you._

“Jesus, stop with the baby talk. They’re _animals._ ” George hisses at Stan as Luke darts away. _Can I hide with you?_ “You fuck right off cat!” The man goes to kick the tabby but Louis takes hold off his arm. 

“No! What are you doing?!” Louis raises his voice. “They don’t know any better! What's the matter with-” 

It's all a blur.

One moment he is defending the cats, the next he is pinned against the wall and Stan's massive chest. He was in control a second ago but suddenly it's like he's a rag doll being used for one’s personal pleasure and fun, his body and mind nothing more than cotton and thread hastily sewn together. His limbs are shaking, mind jumbled, eyes scrunched closed to shut out what's being forced upon him.

Stan is kissing him harshly, biting his lower lip, sucking with such vigor it's borderline devious. There is no affection, no care, no lust, and absolutely no sign of love. This is meant to prove a point, prove that Louis disobeyed the unwritten rules only his boyfriend is privy to. _Why do I keep coming back to you?_

“You got me so angry today.” His boyfriend says against his lips. “So now I am going to fuck you into next week.” He continues to bite and nip Louis’ lips and tongue. _That's what he told me last night._ “And you’re going to take it like a fuckin man.” He doesn’t respond in fear of peaking Stan’s already shitty mood. _Do I have a choice?_

Stan picks him up with ease, takes them to the master bedroom, and unceremoniously drops Louis onto the bed. _Less food equals easier to lift and throw around_. The mattress does nothing to alleviate the pain in his already sore ass, if anything it felt worse and was a reminder of how much _he doesn't want this right now_.

The man quickly removes his blazer and kicks off his shoes. 

“Well come on, the clothes don’t take themselves off.” Louis complies wordlessly and starts to remove his Vans purposely taking his time to hold off the inevitable. He feels his fingers tremble as he unties the laces, feels his body protesting with every movement.

He wishes Stan went home and used his hand.

He reaches for his shirt but the man is on top of him shoving him further into the mattress and onto his back. His boyfriend resumes their _kisses_ (or whatever this is) with Louis still completely dressed, the clothes serving as a temporary barrier from the imminent pain he'll have to endure.

He wants to shout no, he wants to stand up for himself, guard his heart, protect his body, prevent his very being from succumbing further. _Save me anyone...someone... because I can't do it._ Stan rips the shirt open forcing the buttons to pop from the seams and scatter across the room. “W-what-” The man moves down to the fly of his jeans and slaps him harshly between the legs.

“Shut up.” Stan orders and tugs the denim off in one swift motion revealing his tiny, nearly starved, torso. _I really am an object to him_. He straddles Louis’ hips, pulls off the now torn shirt, and pins his arms above his head. He is immobilized, completely bare, scared shitless, unable to protect himself from his boyfriend's anger and wrath. _This isn’t going to be good_. “As I was saying, you made me quite angry today, little one.” Stan begins with an eerily calm tone. “You have no idea what I have planned for you.” Louis tries to wiggle out of the vice like grip.

“I know I was wrong.” He says to diffuse the situation even though it's a complete lie. “Please don’t hurt me.” Louis begs. “I am still in pain from last night. M-my back…it can't take anymore.”  _Does my suffering give you any indication of how I feel right now?_

“But you hurt me, baby.” _Hurt!? So you now you'll return the favor by abusing me!?_ “I give so you much and this is how you repay me?” Stan takes both of Louis’ hands in one of his and gropes him roughly between the legs. Louis can't help but whimper in agony, can’t mask his true feelings. “Tonight will be about me.” _Isn't it always_? “If you orgasm, there will be hell to pay.” Louis blankly stares up at the ceiling ignoring the body on top of him. _This can't be happening...can it?_  “Say yes.” Stan pulls him from his thoughts. “SAY IT you slut.” He finds his boyfriend's eyes and nearly sobs in his face.

“Y-y-yes?” Louis is limp, arousal gone, his body in no mood for what's awaiting him. “S-Stan please don’t hurt me.” He requests again, his tone filled with urgency. _Why isn't he listening?_ The biting is unrelenting, intentional, and stinging his lips, so he isn't surprised when he has a coppery taste in his mouth. _He wants to make me bleed. That's it. He wants me to suffer_. Stan flips Louis over onto his tummy.

“SHUT UP! Just stop talking or I will gag you.” _Never that...never again._ Stan starts to knead Louis’ ass which does absolutely nothing to his libido. “Your voice is grating to my ears. How am I still with you?” The man continues to knead…his erection pressing against Louis’ impossibly sore bum. “I am going to take you now…my cock can’t wait any longer.” _Take me? It's that time-._ Then it hits him. His brain finally decided to catch up it seems. _He can't!!_

“No!! I am not ready!” Louis attempts to lift himself off of the bed with his arms but the firm hand in the middle of his back is preventing him from doing so. “That’s always too painful!” He is trapped and so terrified. “You know this!!” He is starting to hyperventilate as the anticipation slowly overtakes him, surges his fear.

“Like I said, fatty, I am taking you now.” Stan spits on his hands and rubs along his shaft. “Hold still.”

“P-please don't!” Louis yells. He keeps his mouth pressed into the sheets muffling his panting and sobs, the years of _training_ engrained in his mind. His boyfriend is either deaf or just blatantly ignoring his cries as he does the unthinkable and slowly sinks himself in. 

It's searing, burning as if fire is coursing through his veins scorching him from the inside-out, the flames leaving burnt flesh in its wake. He has never gotten used to it, never allowed himself to believe this is okay for Stan to do, never could wrap his head around the fact that his boyfriend wants to cause him pain in the worst way imaginable. _Why…_ He sobs to himself. _Why Stanley. WHY._

He attempts to put himself out of the confines of this bedroom and into a place where he's at peace, a place where he can think for once, worry about his own needs, be free of this man who supposedly cares for him. But it doesn't work, his imagination is malfunctioning, his way of escape closed off to him. He cannot remove his mind from this moment of time. _Why do I love you?_ Tears are soaking into the bedding.

His back and legs protest at the intrusion, his body fighting against the foreign object pushing into him. Goosebumps arise all over as a chill runs from the tips of his fingers down to his toes. But never numbing him, never. He is feeling it all.

“S-Stanley! Please stop!!” He tries to push himself away but it only feels worse. Every movement sends a shooting pain up his spine and into his neck. “You’re hurting me!!” He arches his back trying to take away some of the pressure but Stan simply shoves his face back into the bed.

“Mmhmm, you’re SO tight my little boo.” _No shit you fucking piece of scum._

“I hate you...” Louis whispers into the sheets. He scrunches his eyes shut and contorts his face in agony when Stan finally reaches the hilt. “I FUCKING HATE YOU!” He pants. Stan starts to move his hips ignoring the pleas, the lack of lube and preparation obvious and nowhere near pleasurable.

“Don’t worry baby.” Stan continues to assault Louis, thrusting faster. “I fucking hate you too.”

Louis cannot take it. It's too much, too trying on his body and soul. He was hoping this behavior was just temporary, a new way to bring excitement to the bedroom but Stan is not thinking of Louis’ needs. It's only about him...and it always was.

Louis sobs into the mattress at the unjustness, at Stan's brashness, at the fact that he is lying here crying, subjecting himself to such poor treatment. _Is he done yet? Why isn’t he finished? When will it end?_  

Stan lifts him up onto all fours without warning changing the angle, deepening his thrusts to ensure he feels it. But he can barely keep himself upright, barely take his boyfriend abusing him anymore, barely breathe. Each thrust makes him gasp, every squeeze of Stan’s fingertips on his hips makes him shiver, every moan his boyfriend releases makes him gag.

The movements are erratic, inconsistent, and scattered. Louis knows Stan is almost at his climax, knows the pants, the signs, the intake of oxygen. _Like clockwork._ And thankfully his years of experience pays off...Stan releases into him with a vice like grip on his hips. He whimpers and nearly falls forward onto his face.

“Ah…that was magical.” _FOR_ _WHO_?! Stan slaps Louis’ sore bum and pulls out abruptly. He collapses onto his forearms with his legs bent under him and face buried in the sheets. He swipes at his eyes and mouth and finds red mixed with tears. _Fuck. That's blood._

Stan gets up off of the bed. “Good job. You took it like a man. Too bad you cried like a fuckin pussy.” Louis doesn’t get up. He honestly cannot move. His body aches, his lips are swollen from the bites, and his bum is beyond sore. _I need a hug_. Stan returns and starts to clean Louis off. “OH you’re really red. My bad.” He giggles. He turns over slightly to eye his boyfriend.

“Don’t fucking touch me you piece of shit.” He moves slowly to the end of the bed but is stopped by large hands on his shoulders. “DON’T TOUCH ME!!” Louis struggles to free himself. “Just leave me alone!” 

“Come on that was fun.”

“That is _never_ fun for me!” He finds the edge of the mattress grabbing at the sheets trying to lift himself up. The watch catches his attention. _Fuck you._ He throws the jewelry across the room.

“Hey! That was expensive!!”

“Fuck the watch!!!” He is breathing heavy. “Please leave. I don’t want you here anymore.” _Go away. Disappear._

“Say the word and I will not come back!” 

“Good, you got your last fuck in. So now you can leave the poor fat kid to his misery.”

“You said it, not me.” Stan slowly starts to dress. “You will seriously throw away fifteen years over one night? You fucked up and you continue to. I treat you like a goddamn king. I bought you this house. I brought you to LA from Brooklyn to help you escape a meaningless life!” Stan starts to pace while Louis cries harder into his arms. “and you continue to fuck up!”

“Then why are you still here?!” Louis swipes at his face smearing the tears and blood. 

“Because…I need you around.” Louis looks at his boyfriend with red eyes, disheveled hair, and tear stained cheeks looking utterly pathetic. Stan takes a deep breath, takes off the clothes he attempted to put back on, and lies down on the bed. “Go to sleep.” He orders as he spoons Louis. 

“What are you d-doing?” He cannot help but savor the warmth, the feel of having Stan's protective embrace enveloping him. He shuts his eyes.

“Go. To. Sleep.” 

Louis complies easily and drifts away into nothingness.

 

 


	2. One More Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter edited.  
> You may proceed :)

**Scene One: Louis’ Room, 02:30 AM**

He feels cold.

The warmth is gone.

He's alone.

**Scene Two: Louis’ Room, 05:15 AM**

He's lying on top of the comforter naked.

The alarm is blaring at him ordering him to get up, imploring him to start his day when he really doesn't _want_ to. He wants to lie in bed and never get up again, ignore the responsibilities associated with adulthood, be amongst the sheets and spend his days with his-

George and Luke come running in and nuzzle against Louis’ chest and arms. _That completes the picture_.

“Hi boys.” He starts to pet them. “I uh-…I need a minute.” The cats continue to purr and settle next to him. Now he really can't move! How can he disturb such a precious moment? The alarm sings again. “I really dislike you.”

With as much energy as he can muster, he slowly sits up on the mattress and examines the room wondering if he will find any trace of his boyfriend. _Good, he didn’t forget anything…_

_Well, except for me…he always forgets me._

He sighs and delicately places his feet on the floor as the felines watch his every move.

“I promise you will be fed.” The cats jump off the bed like every other morning and head to the kitchen as he swipes at the lingering wetness on his cheeks.

**Scene Three: Louis’ Kitchen, 05:30 AM**  

How he manages to get dressed for his run and feeds the cats is still up for debate. But he's there, going against his better judgement.

“I’ll be back guys.” Louis says as the Tabbys face plant into their individual bowls munching down. “Um...yeah…”

.

.

.

.

His back screams for the entire 10 miles.

He pushes through refusing to give in when he feels a crack in his already crumbling facade.

_He let me down again…I can’t let myself down too._

**Scene Four: Louis’ House, 07:15 AM**  

“Hi Danielle.”

“Good morning, Louis. Is everything alright?” The Lieutenant questions with a hint of concern in her voice. She is probably already at the precinct authorizing stacks of paperwork and finishing up loose ends from the previous day. _How does she do it? She has a husband and a child? I cant even handle a 5’10 beast._  

“…yeah I am just running late…I had a…” He stops. _What do I say? My boyfriend used me like an object last night and now I feel emotionally unstable? Oh yeah, he fucked me pretty good too_. “I’ll be late.” He decides on.

“Oh, how was your appointment?”

“My what…? YES it was fine…I overslept.” He recovers nearly forgetting the lie. “I have to go.” He hastily hangs up. “S-sorry.”

Louis takes his time making tea and actually chooses to eat breakfast (it’s an apple. It counts). George looks up at him.

“Do you think Stanley would approve?” The cat grunts in response and pads to the living room for his mid-morning nap. “Luke?” The smaller feline is sitting on the countertop eyeing the apple. “You guys are of NO help!” He throws the rest of the fruit away and heads to the bathroom all the while maneuvering around the mirrors.

He has avoided any reflective surfaces since he awoke. He’s afraid of what he’ll find, afraid of _just how bad_ Stan gave it to him last night, afraid if he leaves the house today at all his colleagues would see him for what he truly is. He cannot let them see him breaking though. He’ll bury his shit so deep he himself will forget the pain resides there in the deepest parts of his mind to never see the light of day until he is alone.

At work he will be perceived as a hero, a role model, the epitome of what a cop should be and he will _never_ falter. And only once he’s behind closed doors, he can let the sorrow consume him and break him apart.

After his shower, he positions himself in front of the mirror and slowly opens his eyes one at a time. _I have to look._ He practically jumps out of his skin at the grotesque reflection staring back at him as a wave of nausea creeps its way into his mouth. His lips are completely swollen and bitten, eyes bloodshot and ringed with black circles. “What the…” Louis trails his fingers across the bumpy service and takes in the state of his neck and collar bone that are now littered with purple, mouth shaped welts trailing down to his chest.

He diverts his gaze avoiding the horror. There is no way to cover up or hide what Stan has purposely done to him, no way to act like it was accidental. _Every bite was calculated, intentional, demeaning_. He tears up all over again. How can he be taken seriously looking like this? 

What's his life coming to?

_Everyone will find out._

Because everyone laying witness to this will certainly hurt his perfectly sculpted image.

**Scene Five: Hollywood Community Precinct, 09:00 AM**  

“WOAH DUDE! Did you get into a fight with the razor this morning?” Louis is greeted by a too enthusiastic Niall. “Didn’t your father teach you how to shave?”

“My father left when I was seven.” He turns his face away. _The kid doesn’t know…don’t get mad._

“I’m sorry…I didn’t-” 

“And can we not mention the state of my appearance, please?” Louis rummages through his locker looking for his hat. “I know it’s awful…just act like I tackled some really large criminal and got punched in the face.”

“A-alright?”

“I know I left it in here.” He mumbles to himself. “Ah-ha there it is.” He bends over and groans in agony. 

“You should get that looked at.” Niall continues to point out Louis’ obvious struggle. “I mean, we have a physical job-”

“NIALL, thank you. I am fully aware of that fact. Please give me five minutes.” He doesn’t want to lose his patience. He likes the kid, he makes him feel young again. But right now he needs to hold it together. _And I am hanging on by threads._  The blonde haired boy shrugs and walks out of the locker room seemingly unfazed at his minor outburst. 

“HEY! I’m Niall Horan. Who are you? I’ve never seen you around.” Louis hears.

“Good morning. ’M Harry.” He stands up straight and faces the inside of his locker to listen. _Harry_. He turns towards the two officers. _I could listen to that voice all day_.

“Oh! The lieutenant told me about you. Don’t you work the overnight?” 

“Yes normally. However, she asked if I can work a double to help out.” Harry looks at Louis then. “So here I am.” He can't help but watch the man's mouth as he forms each word and his tongue as it swipes at his bottom lip every so often. _Alright._

“Nice! Maybe you’ll be with me and grandpa over there.” Niall chuckles and walks out. Louis continues to stare at the giant man taking him in, memorizing his face, cheek bones, green irises as they bore into his soul. _It's hot...why are you wearing long sleeves?_

“Hi, Sergeant.” Harry starts. “Are you okay?” Louis rubs his left arm out of habit. “I don’t mean to pry but, it looks like you had a rough night.”

“I am not a sergeant yet.” He corrects once again disregarding the statement. He puts on his gun belt and slams his locker shut. “I need to see Campbell.” Louis makes the excuse for some reason, maybe to escape those penetrating eyes? _It’s like he’s reading my thoughts…seeping into my very being._

“I already did. I will be with you and Niall today.” He stops at that. His palms start to sweat as a very intoxicating image comes to mind.

_First, I’d let you hold me down…_  

“Okay great.” He squeaks. _Second, I’d completely submit to your every desire…_ “See you out there.” Louis practically runs out of the locker room unable to stand within such close proximity of Officer Styles. His rather explicit thoughts could be a factor but he isn't going to find out any time soon. _Third, I’d let you mark me with your hands and lips…_

“Wait up!” Harry follows him into the hallway. “You didn’t answer me.”

_And fourth…I would want you to fuck me so hard I wouldn’t be able to walk straight for a week._   

“W-what?” He clears his throat to not come off as flustered or just plain _stupid_. 

“Are you okay?”

“Why do you care?” He runs a hand through his hair to draw attention away from his face and marred lips.

“I don’t know. I just do.” Harry is giving him his full, undivided attention. “But I might want to mention something though.” He shifts his weight. “How do I put this...I don’t want to sound rude…but…” The man looks thoughtful as if he is carefully choosing his words.

“ _What?_ ” 

“You got manhandled pretty good last night, yeah?” Louis’ mouth drops opens at the audacity this person has. _He hardly knows me...how dare he!?_ _I mean he isn't entirely wrong...but still, it's fucking principle._

“LET’S GO!! We get to head to Sunset Strip today!! Maybe we can spot a celebrity or two!” Niall walks towards the entrance of the building. “And I get to drive...boss’s orders.” He dangles the keys in front of his face. 

“Shot gun!” Harry calls as he follows the blonde. He turns around with this ridiculous smile plastered on his face. “You coming?” _Can you wrap those incredibly long legs around me?_

“Y-Yeah.” He stutters because he's in trouble. “I’m coming.”

Louis follows the officers out into the California sun.

**Scene Six: Sunset Strip, 09:45 AM**  

As promised, Niall is driving and not as horribly as Louis feared.

They’re heading down the strip awaiting a call to come over the radio. It’s a busy morning filled with countless tourists, blue collared workers commuting to work, and anyone in between enjoying the city and warmth. He was hoping _anything_ would happen so he could escape his destructive thoughts that continue to bombard him.

“We should play a game.” The blonde starts. 

“Let’s not.” Louis groans from the back seat. And how in the hell did he end up back here? He's going to be a sergeant in a few days and he gets shoved in the back like some perp?! He is going to have to fumigate his uniform now! _Maybe Harry can handcuff me and play bad cop_. He stops at that thought. _But where did that come from?_  

“What’s the game?” Harry asks. He cannot help but glance up and admire the view.

“I wouldn't egg him on.” Louis says. 

“It’s nothing dirty or anything. I was going to say we keep a tally of how many celebrities we see.” Niall looks at both officers. “No?” 

“That’s lame…eyes on the road please.” He quickly answers dismissing the idea. “It gets old.”

“Not for me. I love that stuff.”

“It looks so different at night.” Harry's face is turned towards the window, but there is no way to hide that jawline.

“Do you like the overnights?” The blonde asks. 

“I do. It may seem exhausting but…the atmosphere changes. The people change.” 

“How different can it possibly be?” Louis cuts in not wanting to feel left out. “Civilians are civilians no matter what time of day.” 

“Nah, people really come alive at night. You’ll see, sergeant.” 

“Stop with the sergeant crap. Call me Louis.” _Or call me baby. I don't mind_. Harry turns around and goodness it doesn’t get any easier. _You're beautiful._

“Does Lou work?”

“Yeah! Grandpa Lou!” The blonde adds.

“Whatever…” Louis can’t help but grin at the nickname. “Only you can call me that, alright?” 

“Okay, sure. I'll spread the word.” Harry nudges Niall. “Hear that? Only I can call him Grandpa Lou.”

“But that was my idea!”

“No rookie. You have to call me boss.” Louis is smiling. _Fucking smiling._

“You wait until I become the boss. Just you wait!!”

“Oh I will be.” He whispers. _Not until I become the boss first._

Harry and Niall find themselves in a deep discussion about their time in the academy as Louis checks his phone. It's not that he doesn't want to be included he just doesn't care to talk about his experience again. He was top of his class, followed the rules, passed the exams...what else is there to share honestly? _It could just be a common interest._ He shrugs. _But that's all they can think of? Why not ask about a hobby?_

He is skimming through his phone and his inboxes are empty.

_Nothing. Not even a text._ _He must be busy…yeah he had a very important client today…wait no was that Friday?_ Louis starts to sweat all over. _He is missing the ceremony. My fucking promotion. But where is Stanley now?_ More thoughts come to mind as he recites last night minute for minute, recalls every insult, feels every ache and pain all over again. He dips his head to hide his agony from the officers, to compose himself. _I promised myself...I made that promise!_

But it's too surreal, unyielding, too raw, and all encompassing. The tension is suffocating him.

_What if he wants to leave me?_ His breathing picks up. _What if his brashness was meant to scare me away?_ Breaths come in quicker succession making him light headed. _He said he needs me. But how though?_ He remembers the foreign scent on his boyfriend’s coat. _I…what if…what if he is cheating?_ A whimper escapes past his lips at that last thought. _Why was he wearing that suit? Why…why did he take me to that restaurant? Why does he smell different?!_

“Lou? Are you okay?” Louis hears the sound but doesn’t register any of it. He's outwardly panting, quite possibly hyperventilating and he cannot focus. “Niall, pull over.” 

“Where!? I don’t want to get in trouble! I am in the center lane!” 

“We’re the law, we can’t get in trouble… just pull the damn car over!” There is a jerky movement followed by an abrupt stop. “O-okay!!”

A door opens and there are hands on Louis’ shoulders almost instantaneously. “Lou? Hey….can you hear me? You look really pale. Lou please answer me…LOU!”

Louis scrunches his eyes closed at the memories, at the wasted time, at the hurt, the lack of affection. _He hates me._ He feels puffs of air hit his cheeks as the person talks to him. “We’re taking him to my place.”  _My boyfriend detests me._

“W-WHAT!! This is my second day out I can’t leave the strip!! That would be a command discipline!”

“This is an emergency. Lou is…I don’t know what’s wrong.” He feels feather like touches on his forehead, face, shoulders. Louis instinctively leans into them knowing damn well he has never felt this before. _My own boyfriend doesn't touch me with such tenderness._  “Just go to the end of the strip and head towards Manhattan Beach. My condo is on 3rd Street.” 

“That’s a great neighborhood. How do you afford that on a cop’s salary?” 

“Just drive okay?”

**Scene Seven: Harry’s Condo, 10:45 AM**  

“But really, Styles, how do you afford this?!” 

“Here, open the front door.” Louis assumes Harry hands Niall a set of keys. “I’ll carry him.” _My boyfriend would drag me like a child and berate me the entire way._

Louis is carried bridal style into the condo and gently placed on something soft. His boots are removed along with his hat and gun belt.

"Dude, you need to put on some weight.” He hears Harry murmur from above him. _I need to be skinny for Stanley…so he can…so he can control me_. A hand brushes his face. “You’re burning up. Niall-” 

“This place is gorgeous!” The young recruit is back in ear shot. “My parents could never afford this place!” 

“I get it, you like it but we have a situation here. Please call the Lieutenant and inform her what happened?” 

“You got it.” He is momentarily left alone still unsure how or why he cannot focus, cease the onslaught of negativity _. I’m a puppet._

“Maybe this’ll help.” Louis feels something cool pressed to his forehead.

“I told Lieutenant Campbell. She wants to call an ambulance but I told her Dr. Styles has it covered. She isn’t angry…which I’m surprised about.” 

“Well, I would sure hope not.” There is some movement above him. “Lou, you can stay here and rest. I will put my cell number in your phone so you can call me when you’re awake. Don’t worry about a thing. I’ll train the newbie.” He is imagining how Harry's mouth must look as he speaks to him.

“I take offense to that!!” The blonde huffs. He feels a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t worry.” The voice is so close to his ear as if Harry leaned towards him. “I've got you.”

Louis feels himself sink deep into sleep.

_Safe. I'm safe._

**Scene Eight: Harry’s Condo, ????**  

_Louis is lying down with his hands tied above his head._

_“Stop moving” Stan…Louis looks into his boyfriend’s eyes._ _Stan starts to kiss and swipe his tongue down Louis’ chest and abdomen, “Don’t squirm, keep still!”_

_“Can’t help it. It feels…OH…good.”_ No pain. Why no pain?

_Stan moves his mouth to suck on Louis’ nipple. “How about that?”_

_“V-v-very good.”  Louis’ back arches off the bed. “Please don’t stop.” Stan continues to assault Louis with his lips until he makes it down to his impressively large cock._

_“Baby, you get so hard for me.”_

_“Only for you.” Louis purrs. He closes his eyes and tries to relax. This feeling is too foreign. Why is he so gentle?_ Why is there no pain? 

_“Lou, you’re so beautiful.” Louis looks down and is met with green eyes._

_His hands are no longer bound above his head but brushing Harry’s cheeks._

**Scene Nine: Harry’s Condo, 07:30PM**

“Lou? Hey.” 

He jolts awake. “I’m…” He’s flushed all over. “What happened? Where am I? What time is it?” _I was enjoying my DREAM!!_  

“Slow down there. You’ve been asleep since this morning-” 

“MORNING?! Where am I?” He starts to get up but is stopped by two large hands. Louis looks up and sees Harry in his typical beanie and long sleeved shirt “What…? Aren’t you warm?” The man waves his hand.

“You were having a moment in the back seat and I didn’t know what else to do so I brought you to my place.” 

“ _Your_ place?! Stanley is going to kill me. I have to get back to the precinct…now!” Louis forces his way up off the mattress. _It was a bed_. He rushes around not knowing where any of his belongings are. “Where are my boots, belt…everything?! My god…I’m fucked. I’m so fucked!!!” 

“Calm down!!” Harry places his hands on Louis’ quaking shoulders. “All of your things are next to the nightstand. I can drive you back to the precinct. You’re not fucked as far as I’m concerned.” _He doesn't get it!!_  “I didn't even come near you.” Louis takes a deep breath and shakes his head trying to clear the confusion. _That’s a confidence booster._

“I guess I am THAT gross looking?” 

“I never said that.” Harry turns and walks out of the room. “Let’s go. Don’t want to keep Sir Stan waiting.”

**Scene Ten: Hollywood Community Precinct, 08:15 PM**  

The ride was quiet.

Painfully quiet.

Louis is shaking in his seat, hands clasped in his lap turning purple, knees clamped together. He can't breathe, can't think, can't fathom he was sleeping all morning and well into the afternoon. Was he that tired? Was his body in need of such rest that it took him to have a panic attack in the back of the police car to realize it? _Harry must think I'm strange._

_“_ We're here. Are you okay? Can you walk?” He was probably asked that about a half dozen times.

“I can walk. And is an _I don't know_ an acceptable response?” They emerge from Harry's car.

“Not really. It's more a yes or no type of question.”

“Oh…well let's make it a-” _Fuck No._

“You shit!” Stan yells from inside the building. Louis looks up with visible panic. _Not here. This is my safe zone._ “Where the fuck were you?!” He goes to clutch onto Louis’ arm. 

“Stanley, I-” He retracts from the outstretched hand.

“Don’t _STANLEY_ me! I am sick and tired of you disappearing all of the time!” He latches on and gives a slight shake.

“But you don’t-” Louis tries to explain the situation to no avail. _Not here. Anywhere but here._ He quickly scans the office to make sure no one is around.  

“I just don’t get it…I met a client this morning and had to run around this fuckin town to finalize paperwork on a multi-million dollar property and you’re sleeping at some _other dudes place_?! Imagine if I did that, huh?!” He shakes Louis again this time with more vigor. 

“Stop it! Let him speak for heavens’ sake!” Harry says. _Great now I can't even defend myself._ “He was having a panic attack-” 

“He doesn’t suffer from panic attacks!” Stan gives Harry a once over. _Now I do…apparently._ “Who the _fuck_ are you!? And where did you get that accent from? Did they hire you to meet some quota?” 

“ ‘M Harry and I _am_ from England. But that’s irrelevant at the moment. Louis here suffered from _something_ earlier. I don’t know what triggered him…he seemed fine actually.” Harry diverts his eyes. “I wanted to help.” He shrugs.

“We don’t NEED your help.” Stan pulls Louis back towards the door.   _I do. I DO!_

“I need to change first-” Louis whispers. _That hand is going to leave a mark...another mark._

“No, it’s a short ride you can change at home.” 

“But my car-” He pleads. 

“I will drop you off tomorrow!!!” Stan’s face turns a deep red. “Let’s just leave before I lose it.” 

“Looks like you already did…” Danielle says. Louis didn't even notice her standing there. In fact, if she didn't say anything, he probably would have unintentionally ignored her. She eyes Stan. “If I see another mark on him, I am going to personally arrest you myself for domestic abuse. I don’t care how important you think you are but you should never treat anyone with such little respect. I fucking mean it, you scum.” She walks away.  _Great._ Harry stands there for a moment and then looks at him.

“You have my number.” He turns and leaves shoving his hands in his pockets. 

_Even better._

**Scene Eleven: Louis’ House, 09:00 PM**  

The cats come running to the front door.

“Ugh get out of the way…!” Stan whines the moment they're inside. Louis reluctantly trails behind him having inkling what might transpire.  

“Hi boys. I know you’re hungry, I’m sorry…daddy wasn’t feeling well.” 

“You mean, daddy was fucking the new guy.” Stan turns to him. “Tell me? Did he bottom? Or did you cower like a little girl?” He rushes the man on impulse having this sudden urge to punch him in the face.

“Fuck _you!_ I did not screw anyone!!” Louis backs away but Stan encircles his arms around his tiny frame and picks him up over his head. “Put me down!!!” He flails his arms, kicks out his legs, screams at the top of his lungs.

“Is that all you got, squirt?” His boyfriend carries him over to the counter and drops him down onto the hard, unforgiving surface. “I like when you fight back.” The man positions himself between his legs and goes for his lips.

“No!! I don’t want to do anything.” He pushes Stan away and turns his head. “You _fucking_ hurt me last night. Why do you do that?” Stan huffs and holds Louis still trying to kiss him. 

“Because I can.” He manages to latch onto Louis’ throat. 

“NO you can’t!” Louis pushes again as tears prickle his eyes. “Why do you like seeing me suffer?” He swipes at his wet cheeks.

"Because I want to feel you writhe on the bed.” Stan grips Louis’ shoulders holding him in place. “It excites me seeing you so vulnerable. I think about you all day like that. In fact, I want to do that right now.” Louis struggles against the grip.

“Get off of me you swine! I’ve had it with your domineering attitude and lack of respect for me!” He struggles against his boyfriend's tight grip. He is petrified at what's to come, continues to wiggle away from those pouty lips that are sending shivers down his spine and an unexplainable rush to his senses. He doesn't know if he is enjoying it or so accustomed to his behavior he's become numb to it all.

He is so tired, exhausted at pushing this man away, beyond spent from fighting. He ceases his movements and relaxes his eyes and limbs as Stan continues his barrage of kisses across his neck and jawline.  

“I love you.” The words tumble from his mouth.  

“And I love you when you’re on your back with me in between your legs.” 

“That’s all you want from me?” His heart sinks as the tears stream down his face. “I’m just a piece of ass to you? After all of these years, you only want me for sexual pleasure? And me to beg for it?” He sinks further into himself. “This isn’t a relationship.” The man picks Louis up continuing his kisses. “I…I don’t know what I want.”  _He doesn't love me?_

“You want me.” _I do. Unfortunately I do._  

But why?

What does this man have that Louis cannot find on his own? Why can't he seek his own happiness? Does he feel that trapped to the point he'd do anything to please this person even if he will hurt in the end? Stan is abusive, unfeeling, a selfish prick. And here he is allowing this man to take advantage. _I am my own person damnit! I don't need_ …

_But I do. I do need him._ He reminds himself. _I need to please him. Let him take what he wants from me and I'll let him take care of me._

Stan reaches Louis’ bedroom but moves towards the bathroom.

"Get undressed.” The man drops him to the floor. Louis quickly sheds his uniform and piles everything on the tiles. _Please you...I have to please you._

He practically jumps onto Stan grabbing his neck and pulling him down into a tight embrace and sloppy kiss. Stan wraps one arm around his small waist and uses the other to turn on the shower.

“Calm down there.” He shoves Louis under the cold spray. 

“AH! It’s freezing!!!”  _Reality check._

Stan undresses and quickly moves under the water after him. “I want to fuck you so bad right now.” 

“O-okay.” Stan looks down at Louis’ cock and reaches for it. 

“Beg me.” 

“F-Fuck me…p-please?” Louis manages. _It’s the water…yeah the water is too cold_. Stan shoves Louis back against the shower wall joining their lips together. “I want you to prepare yourself.” 

Complying obediently, Louis sucks on his index finger and places it at the entrance to his hole. “I need your guidance though.” 

“You filth.” Stan covers the smaller man’s hand and helps penetrate the tight muscle.

“Oh!…that feels...” Stan ruts against Louis as he shoves his own finger in. “That’s cheating!” Louis sighs against the pressure, his cock is throbbing, his mind reeling. _This actually feels good?_

“I can’t wait any longer.” Stan moves both of their hands in unison. “I love your cute little body. And this ass…I could stare at it all day.” He pumps their fingers faster now. He cannot help the whimpering and burst of pleasure as it overrides his fear. He is impossibly hard, finally at the point where Stan wants him. _Beg...he wants me to beg for it._

“F-fuck me now….I’m ready. I want... _need_ you inside me.” _I need your reassurances. I need to make sure you want me too._  

Stan removes their fingers, and lifts him up. Louis wraps his legs securely around his boyfriend’s firm torso and extends his hands above his head like normal.

“No, put them on my shoulders.” The man grunts in exertion. _Oh...change_ _of events_. He moves his unsteady hands and is pleasantly surprised when his boyfriend penetrates him smoothly and quickly. He gasps. 

He gasps because he's enjoying it, actually feeling something other than the usual sting, giving into the desire Stan is feeling. He closes his eyes and rides his high, continues on his path towards his orgasm, listens intently to the man holding him securely. _It's like the dream...it's just like the dream. I feel so free, alive..._ He takes hold of his shaft and starts to jerk himself off. _More...I want more._ He wants to feel it all around, all over, from every angle.

He gets lost in his head, sees that jawline, that side profile that speaks volumes, eminates perfection and beauty. His stomach is filled with butterflies, an unexpected sensation he was in no way prepared for...and his arousal is skyrocketing.

_“Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”_ That voice.

“You've got me, Harry.” Louis mumbles. Stan's grip tightens on his back as he pushes in. _Stan didn't say that._ He opens his eyes in shock. _Fuck he didnt-_

He silently cums on their torsos and it's gone. His mind went blank.

“UGH! You feel so good.” He vaguely hears around the blood rushing in his ears. This is some fucked up joke. It must be...how in the hell did he have such an urgency to cum right then and there? The voice in his head? Those sweet words? A combination? _That face._

Stan takes hold of his shoulders and plunges in. It's the same...the excitement he was feeling was from something else...well some _one_ else rather and this is not _doing it_ for him _._

He is numb once again, closed off, disgusted by the sex he so desperately wanted. He barely registers what his boyfriend is doing to him, how he's grunting, keeping him suspended, fucking him harshly. His legs are losing their grip, his mind is back from wherever it decided to travel to, he doesn't want this any longer. He starts to pull away when-

“Ah _fuck!!!”_ The man yells as he reaches his climax. _That was...ordinary_. They remain still a few moments then Stan drops him, ungraciously removes his hands and cleans off his stomach. “You didn't cry like a bitch I'm surprised.” _You weren't on my mind._

“Well that happens when-” _When what? When I'm thinking of someone else_? “When um...you prepare me?” Louis shuts the water, grabs a towel and heads to the bedroom.

“I'll try not to forget next time.” Stan takes the towel and dries himself quickly.

“No you won't forget next time because I'll remind you.” He crosses his arms over his chest as he watches the man dress. “And I'll do it every time.”

“And I'll continue to ignore it.” His boyfriend smiles and plants a chaste kiss on his chapped lips. “Bye.”

_I hate you._

_But._

_I need you._

_Right?_

_“Don't worry. I've got you.”_

Maybe he doesn't.


	3. Unfeeling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may proceed :)

**Scene One: Sergeant’s Ceremony, 11:30 AM**  

Louis is standing outside the hall in his dress uniform with his phone in his hand.

He doesn’t know who to call, who to share this moment with, who to spread his excitement to. Of course he is thrilled, of course he is thankful for the opportunity, of _course_ he'll remember it for years to come...but he cannot hide his sorrow and the fact that he's alone. He should have been surrounded by family, friends, and loved ones, taking pictures, giving hugs, kissing cheeks, smiling, making memories. It's his luck it seems...and misery follows him every where.

He sighs and walks to a bench.

He scrolls through his contacts and lands on his mother's number figuring he might as well start with her. He wanted her here…in fact, he wanted her here more than anyone just to see her smiling face, the pride in her eyes, to feel her love. But it's just not feasible with his siblings and he knew this...he knew it was nearly impossible.

“Hello?” 

“Hi Mom.” _I miss you_.

“My sweet boy. How are you? Did you have your ceremony today?” 

“Yeah I did. I wish you were here with me though.” _Because no one else is and I really need a shoulder to cry on._

“I know…it’s just so hard to come out there with work and the kids. Was Stan there to support you?” 

“Um he actually...couldn’t make it.” He nearly chokes out.

“You need to leave that man, Louis. He isn’t healthy to be around.”

“He had a client. It was a…high profile deal he couldn’t pass up.” It sounds bitter on his tongue. “If it goes through-”

“Stop making excuses for him! You know he is starting to develop his father’s abusive tendencies. I do not want him to subject _you_ to that.” _He already has and I can't escape it._  

 “I’m not making excuses. His father was a shitty man-” 

“Hey! Watch your mouth!” 

“Sorry, but it’s true. Stan is…”  _Awful. So awful._ “…not as bad?”

“You promised me you would protect yourself and leave him if he hurt you.” 

“He doesn’t…sometimes…Mom I don’t know.” He cannot have this conversation with her, cannot have her worry about him, not when she is five thousand miles away, not when he is so alone and vulnerable. 

“Honey, you know I love you. Be safe okay?” 

“I will, love you too…tell everyone I say hello and that I miss them.” 

“Of course, dear. We will talk soon.”

_I want to buy a one way ticket to New York._

**Scene Two: Sotheby’s Beverly Hills, 01:00 PM**  

He called Stan.

And called.

And called a third time to no avail.

The man is ignoring him, being a complete shithead, showing his true fucking colors and only surfaces when it’s convenient for him. _I really hate you._

So why is he outside his office? Why did he find himself here after pacing the length of his house contemplating his next move after the ceremony? Was it his anger towards his boyfriend's attitude? Or was it his own stupidity? _I am giving him a taste of his own medicine that’s what it is._

He enters the building with a plan, a carefully thought out plan he formulated on his way over. He wants to jump Stan's bones, fuck _him_ over the desk and make his boyfriend scream and beg, bury himself until he is satisfied, kiss every inch of skin he can latch his mouth onto, leave bite marks, the works. It sounds incredible, absolutely flawless. But there is just one catch…

He can feel the jitters swirling in his stomach, feel the butterflies come alive the closer he gets to the suite. _I blame my lack of confidence._ But he's a fucking sergeant, he's fucking in charge, and he wants to fuck his boyfriend. What's there to be worried about? He will be in control for a change and he’s going to savor it.

Louis enters through the double doors, waves to the receptionist, and quickly makes his way down the long corridor. He looks at the clothes he changed into before coming. He thought it would be hot to wear his Sergeant's uniform but if he got any stains on it he'd be screwed (and also get stuck with the dry cleaning bill). So he's in his typical jeans and t shirt. _Can't poke fun at my outfit now I suppose._

He reaches the office and hears giggling on the other side of the door _._ He must have a client _. Maybe?_ He looks behind him to see if Stan's assistant is there but her seat his empty, her desk scattered with paperwork, computer screen black, chair pushed away as if she stood up in a hurry. _Maybe she is on lunch_. 

The next giggle makes his stomach clench. 

Louis isn't a business man, in fact he has the slightest clue as to how this shit works but he is certain you do not make clients _giggle_. His heart starts to race at the sound, the familiar noise he himself has made on multiple occasions, the noise of-…he cannot think of that right now.

He puts his hand on the door knob putting those errant thoughts aside, takes a deep breath, and pauses a moment longer. The tears are already swimming in his eyes, his suspicions coming to light, his fear that he may be walking into something that may easily tear him to shreds killing his libido and something more substantial. It's times like these he wishes he was ignorant, oblivious to the world around him, detached from his emotions, independent.

No he is everything _but_ that. He loves, he hurts, he cries, he needs, he fucking _cares_ and this is how he is treated in return.

Louis gazes down at his hand cupping the door knob. His fingers are purple, knuckles white, shaking. A tear drop escapes past his eyelid and lands on his wrist encircled with the white gold watch. The Rolex. The stupid gift that meant _nothing_ to him.

“It's okay. Everything will be okay.” He swipes at his eyes and pushes the door open.

The scene unfolding before him is worse than he could imagine, worse than the pain in his back, worse than loving someone unconditionally knowing damn well they do not feel the same.

So much worse because he knew.

He knew and he turned away. _Maybe I am ignorant._

The woman is sprawled out on the desk, blouse open, brown hair askew, lipstick smeared across her chin, face in a look of horror and embarrassment. She gives a short yelp understanding she is still at work and performing an act that is very much inappropriate, an act that could easily get her fired. Her eyes are watching his every move, waiting for an outburst he's sure. But no. He’s abnormally calm and taking it all in.

He sees Stan next standing between her legs, slacks at his ankles, dick out and ready to fuck his assistant, face covered in sweat, eyes dilated, a look of pure lust he has not witnessed in years plastered on his features.

He is slowly dying on the inside, he feels his blood run cold, the numbness spreading through his limbs. The room feels sticky, the air thick, and carries a hint of the scent he caught a few nights ago. _I should have known. It was too sweet to be a man's cologne. It was her perfume on his clothing_. He nearly gags.

“Lewis-” Stan hasn’t moved, his cock is still in his hand. _And to think I wanted to take him. To think I loved him_. He looks down at the watch on his wrist, unclasps the lock, and gently places it on the desk right by Eleanor's head. He gives her a long, penetrating look, judges her, makes her feel uncomfortable, proves he will not breakdown in front of her. _That’s an engagement ring on her finger._

Without another word, he turns around and walks out of the office.

“Lewis!!” He hears Stan yelling but he refuses to stop.

He has to put space between him and that man he called his boyfriend, the man he depended on, the man who used him, the man who took his heart and broke it in two, the man who starved him of attention and love, the man who insulted his intelligence, the man he no longer cares for.

The man who lied to him.

**Scene Three: Manhattan Beach, 02:45 PM**

He must still be numb because he’s absolutely devoid of emotion.

He drove away from that dreadful place, stopped at a fast food restaurant, ordered four cheese burgers, a chocolate milkshake with fries, and came to the beach. He doesn’t have to listen to anyone, doesn’t have to worry about _starving_ himself to please anyone, doesn’t have to suffer through pain. _I am free and I get to eat what I want_.

He finishes off the third cheeseburger and lays down in the sand taking in the sun. He feels so free, unattached, and so fucking relieved he wants to scream at the top of his lungs.

He wishes it was his idea though…not to cheat, never cheat because cheating is weak. But to _end_ it. End a doomed fifteen year relationship that was never going to amount to anything, something that was bound to fail. He just couldn’t stand the thought of being alone he supposes.

After so many years of being with the same person he became comfortable, too set in his ways and routine. Of course he regrets missing out on the single life or dating other people but he’s only twenty nine. And he isn’t DEAD! So he can start all over and _find_ himself.

He takes a sip of the now almost melted milkshake and cannot believe how full his stomach is. _That fucking asshole._ How in the hell did he do this for so long? How did he function honestly? He touches his abdomen and can still feel his ribcage protruding underneath his fingertips. _How scary_ … _to think he wanted me painfully thin…_

“I thought I recognized you.” Louis flinches and looks to his left towards the voice. “Is that an In-n-Out bag?” He removes his hand from his belly.

“Yes, actually it is. I have a burger left, want it?” He sits up and faces the man with the perfectly chiseled jawline and lovely smile. Harry hesitates a moment. “I had three others. Trust me. I’m fine. I have fries too.”

“Shit, you went to town.” The man puts his hands in the pockets of his board shorts.

“And a milkshake.” He lifts the cup and frowns. “Guess I didn’t drink fast enough though. It’s now chocolate soup.”

“Mmm, nothing beats warm milkshake.”

“Yuh…” Louis makes a face and puts the cup in the sand. He stares up at Harry who is shifting his weight. “You can join me you know.” _Why not? I want to have friends._

“I wasn’t sure if I was interrupting.” He sits opposite Louis. “You looked lost in thought.”

“Not really.”

“Not really what?” Harry is wearing sunglasses so it’s hard for him to gauge his reaction, to read him.

“You were not interrupting anything.”

“Oh okay good.” The man looks towards the ocean and he just gapes at the side profile and neck and…holy shit this man is heaven on earth. _Well crap, I’ve been single for less than an hour and I am already putting my feelers out there?_

“How can you wear long sleeves and a beanie? You must be so hot.” _Well you are quite attractive…_

“In time, Grandpa Lou, you will find out why.” The man smiles, revealing his dimple. _Fuck._

“Jesus Christ, you’re really going to call me that?”

“You said I can!”

“I uh…I did.” He recalls the memory but hates what transpired after _that_ conversation. “By the way, did I say thank you? You know for helping me?” He takes a fry out of the bag eyeing it curiously to distract himself from the sexiness sitting before him. _Boy am I NOT dead._

“You did not. But it’s alright.”

“No it’s not. I’m sorry for not saying anything and just…ugh freaking _out_.” He eats the fry and puts the bag down. “I’ve never suffered from panic attacks so I am not sure where it came from.”

“Were you thinking of something? Did anything out of the ordinary happen? I mean I don’t need details but you know, give me the short of it…if you’d like that is.”

“Uh…” He mulls everything over, feels the tear in his heart, allows the anger to spill out. “Fucking _Stanley._ ” He blurts. Harry jumps in his seat.

“Gotcha…no need to say anymore.”

“He is the worst and I hate him.”

“Well-”

“I found him fucking his assistant just before. Walked in on them while he was supposed to be at some house showing…some _multi-million_ dollar house showing. He missed out on my sergeant’s ceremony to fuck an engaged woman. I guess the booty call was more important.” He ducks his head.

“Well she’s pretty awful too, you know, for doing that.”

“I saw it coming I think.” He holds back the tears. _He is a co-worker. Don’t show weakness_. “I think I knew for a long time that he didn’t, you know…”

“Know what?” Harry turned towards him.

“Love me.” He buries his head in his hands. “He never did.”

“Now I wouldn’t say _never_.”

“NO!” He yells out suddenly. He looks up at Harry who is just _staring_ at him. “He _didn’t_. He used me.”

“Why do you say that? I mean, the dude was a complete douche but he _never_ had feelings for you…ever?”

“Look at me.” He says.

“I haven’t stopped.” The man responds. _Why am I spilling my guts to you?_

“He turned me into some grotesque human being.” He picks the paper bag up and shoves it in Harry’s startled face. “This was the first real meal I’ve had in _years_.”

“You’re not grotesque.”

“I’m emaciated, pale, exhausted…” He rests his head on his knees avoiding that penetrating gaze.

“Well if you continue eating three cheeseburgers in one sitting, I’m sure you’ll put weight back on.”

“True.”

“You can start anew. You’re…free, yeah? Or…wait.” Harry pauses mid-sentence. “Please say you’re no longer with the man.”

“No way! I didn’t even listen to his explanation. ”

 “Yeah well if you saw him actually-”

“His dick was in his hand. I knew exactly what direction _that_ was going.”

“Wow…well there we have it.” The man smirks which slightly reminds him of a frog. “Oh you’ve got something on your face.”

“Huh?” Harry tentatively reaches over and runs his thumb over his cheek. He has this sudden need to remove the glasses, stare into those lovely green eyes he’s seen in his daydreams. _I got off on the mere thought of you._

“Looks to be a crumb of some sort.” He can still feel that finger lingering on his face after Harry pulls away. _Wait but…that felt good_. “So…”

“So…what?” Louis absently touches his face in hopes of finding something there.

“I can call you Sergeant now.”

“Oh…yeah I guess you can.”

“Funny seeing you here though.”

“Well I don’t live that far. Only like…twenty minutes? I wanted to soak in some sun…get some color back into these cheeks, eat.” Louis looks around them. “Did you come with anyone?”

“Nope.”

“I see.”

“I live up the block and wanted to wr-…um well take a walk. Do you remember my condo?”

“Vaguely. I was a little freaked out at the time to really notice any fine details.”

“Ah, yes. I remember that as clear as day. I thought you were going to punch me in the face.” Harry picks up a piece of shell. “Yeah well, I come here often.”

“I would too if I was so close.” Louis looks at Harry who seems to be lost in thought.

“I should head back. I have work tonight.”

“Yeah you better get some sleep…” He feels disappointment when he shouldn’t. “See you Monday?”

“I’m off…actually.” The man looks visibly nervous as he runs the broken shell through the sand.

“Monday?”

“Tomorrow night.” He rushes out.

“What does tomorrow night have to do with anything?” He’s confused. _And I thought I was weird…although I’ve gotten through this entire conversation unscathed._

“Alright let me start over. I am off tomorrow night and want to _know_ if you’d like to meet up.”

“Meet up?”

“With me.”

“With you?” He widens his eyes in utter shock. _I’m free. I can do what I PLEASE!_

“To watch my band perform.”

“To watch your…wait what?” He deflates slightly. _Even if it was one on one…I couldn’t do that yet…right?_

“Yes I am in a band and have been for almost seven years.”

“What’s the name?”

“The Rogue.”

“What do you play? The ukulele?”

“Ha! That would be interesting.” Louis practically melts…because that smile is just…even brighter than the sun. “But no.”

“Oh damn, let me guess again…the kazoo?”

“No you goof. I sing and play guitar. But a normal sized guitar…does that make sense?”

“Yes, yes it does.” Louis’ heart skips a beat in his chest and he is starting to feel those burgers churning in his stomach.

“So what’s the verdict?” Harry questions. He wants to see this guy’s hair or something…

“You have an odd shaped head.”

“Come on, gramps. I need to go.” He looks into the glasses, stares into the black lenses, wishes he could stare at those green irises. He doesn’t know what’s right or wrong. If he says yes, will this mean he’s moved on? If he says yes, will it help him get back into the swing of things? If he says YES, will he be able to find out who he is? “It’s alright if you can’t. I understand…I know it’s quick but really-” _If I say yes, will I be rebounding?_

“Sure. Yes. Of course. I want to come. I will be there.” Louis recovers. “Just give me a time and place.”

“Great! I’ll text you.”

**Scene Four: Louis’ House, 10:30 PM**

He is sitting on the couch watching (well, more like staring at) the television since he arrived home and has no idea what to do with himself.

He is so accustomed to having _Stan_ with him he forgot what it’s like to be alone.

And he hates it.

Louis has this new found freedom, all of this time and opportunity to do what _he wants to do_ and yet he hasn’t a clue what _that_ is. It was always “Stan and Louis”, never one without the other, two bookends, a pair. But now it’s just him and he isn’t quite sure how he feels about that.

 _I get what I want and now I’m miserable_. _I will never win._

He picks up the remote and flips through the channels searching for something to watch (or distract him). He can feel his emotions creeping up on him, the weight of his sorrow looming overhead, can sense the pressure on his chest. He was content all afternoon, full of life, completely free of his abusive relationship, stomach full of greasy food and carbs, and at ease. Now he aches to be held, yearns for sweet touches, craves the softest whispers in his ear and featherlike kisses on his cheeks, desires warmth to spread through his body and seep into his bones. He touches his cheek once more remembering that thumb, that impossibly long thumb that touched his cheek and left sparks in its wake. He shivers.

He lies down on the sofa cradling a pillow in his arms pretending it’s…not just a pillow and attempts to settle down.

At first he didn’t feel anything, in fact he felt neutral, but it was like a dam opening up, the tiniest of cracks giving way. And there was no stopping it, nothing strong enough to hold it back, keep the wall from splitting further apart. The sob that formed in the pit of his distended tummy was strong, unbearable, and beyond anything he has felt before.

Suddenly he can feel his limbs, his aching heart, pounding headache, the massive hole in his chest where a relationship once resided, where a friendship remained for nearly half of his life. Everything hurts, his mind is a jumbled mess, his tears are unrelenting, and the pillow he clutches to his chest is soaked.

He remains on the sofa for a few hours, ignores the buzzing of his phone, awaits the soft purrs of his cats to comfort him and simply wastes away praying a dream will come and save him.

**Scene Five: Louis’ House ????**

_Louis is being kissed or is he the one doing the kissing?_

_He isn’t positive. He can only be sure of the body under him, the strong hands groping his ass urging him forward, the pull of the mouth on his, the sweat covering his body._

_The arousal burning under his skin is fogging his brain, guiding him towards this person, encompassing his will, practically forcing him to the next step._ I need to fuck them…who ever this may be _. But that’s a silly thought. He isn’t like this._

_He listens to the quiet moans and whimpers coming from the person’s mouth as he makes his way to their neck. He has to taste them, has to learn their body and curves, become one with them. He’s savoring in it, allowing them to explore him with their long fingers, craving their touch as much as he wants to touch them. He lowers his hands to stroke their-_

Wait.

 _He detaches his lips from the neck he was just latched on to and stares into the blackness allowing his eyes to adjust. The face is wrong, the hair wrong, the fucking_ body _all WRONG. His eyes can make out the feminine curves, the brown stringy hair, the ring glinting on HER finger._

_He chokes on the very air he was breathing, rubs at his face, wipes his mouth ridding it of her stale taste. He attempts to stand up but her legs hold him firmly in place._

_“L-let me go.” He stutters._ This isn’t me. This isn’t me! _“This was a mistake!”_

 _He fights against her impossibly strong hold, detesting that he would even think about being with an engaged woman…and to even be_ with _a woman at all. “It’s not real…this isn’t REAL. You’re not real.”_

_“It is real.” The voice passing her lips isn’t hers, but a man’s. A very familiar one at that._

_“This isn’t what I want!”_

_“We all know what it is you crave.” The voice…that fucking voice that has haunted him and continues to still._

_“No one knows.” He is horrified. What the fuck is this? “I don’t even know!”_

_“I do.” The legs vanish from around his hips setting him free. He darts off the bed away from the being lying there._

_“It’s fake. It’s fake.” He covers his ears and lowers his head._

_“It’s me.”_

_“You?”_

_“You crave me.”_

_He looks up and it’s-_

**Scene Six: Louis’ House 08:30 AM**

He awakes with a start.

He runs a hand down his face and reaches out for his phone but somehow managed to land in a ball of fur. The cat grunts.

“Sorry, George.” He slowly sits up and finds the television still on and the morning light seeping through the curtains. “Ugh my head.” He whines. He does not recall falling asleep. He only remembers crying…violently sobbing into a pillow because-

Everything was true.

Stanley was screwing the secretary, fucking an engaged woman while Louis was getting promoted, unaware of his cheating (ex)boyfriend. He remembers the sweet perfume, the hint of floral, the mixture of their sweat in the air. He feels sick at the memory. There he stood just watching them when he should have lashed out, punched the fucker in the balls, see him writhe in pain on the ground.

But no. He was the wimp and took the higher ground.

His stomach starts to clench and twist, the smell is stuck in his nose, the reminder of what it was surging him to his feet. He hastily stands up, disrupts the sleeping felines and rushes to the bathroom.

He just made it, just reached the bathroom and toilet, proceeded to get sick and ruin the immaculately clean tiles and porcelain. He tastes the burger, the chocolate, and fries and ugh he cannot help but vomit more. He empties the contents of his stomach and feels weak, feels the loss of energy as if it were sucked out of him.

He collapses to the ground after what feels like hours and relaxes his cheek on the cold floor. His face is on fire, his head splitting open from the throbbing behind his eyes. He finds the cats sitting in the doorway.

“B-boys.” He squeaks out. “I n-need a minute.” He falls back into a deep sleep.

**Scene Seven: Louis’ House, 03:45 PM**

He is lying in the spare bedroom when his phone chimes.

He managed to crawl his way out of the bathroom and into the bed after a few hours of deep sleep. His arm went numb from being tucked underneath him and his head is still pounding but he's alive, alive and still unstable, alive and still a little in denial.

Alive or something like it.

There was no way of knowing how he'd react, no way of knowing just how badly he'd crash when reality would hit and sink in. The suddenness was probably what hurt the most though, the onslaught of emotion crippling. If he would have felt something right when he walked in on them, he's sure it wouldn't hurt as much, wouldn't feel like a ton of bricks weighing on his shoulders. It was too much all at once and it was certainly unexpected.

He slowly awakens to full alertness when the chime comes again. “What's that?” He chokes out and opens his eyes.

The chime comes once more. _OH!!_

He practically jumps up when he realizes what that means and hobbles to the living room where he left his phone.

He looks at the screen and sees “Officer Styles” across the top. His mind is reeling and not fully comprehending how Harry found out his number and why he would use _that_ name in his contacts but there it is in bold letters. He shrugs his shoulders and opens the message, cataloging that question for later.

[OS]: Seven Grand Whiskey Bar. 515 W 7th St #200.

[OS]: 7pm for drinks. 9pm start time.

“Seven?” He feels goosebumps on his arms. He sits down on the couch feeling dizzy from possible dehydration. “9pm start?” He mulls this information over. “He wants to meet before he performs.” _Shit._ He furiously rubs at his left bicep. “Will it just be us?”

He feels sweat forming on his brow from that small fact. _Doesn't Harry know I just ended a fifteen year relationship? Isn't he aware that maybe I'm not ready to jump right back in?_

But what if he is? What if he was searching for forever, a soulmate? An opportunity to find happiness? He confirmed he isn't dead so he has to go tonight. He has to make sure. He's single now and even though it's been only a short time, he has to figure out what's best for him. Plus, they are only going to a bar. It's not like it's anything official anyway. _I can't jump too far ahead of myself. Harry may have felt sorry and wanted to invite me out._

That excuse sounds a lot better. He nods his head in agreement and walks to the kitchen in search of food.

He finds Luke on the counter top and figures he might as well ask for an opinion. “Would it send the wrong message if I got a haircut?” The cat simply eyes him and jumps down. “Okay, thanks!”

**Scene Seven: Seven Grand Whiskey Bar, 07:15PM**

Louis parks his car and waits.

He scrolls through his phone and re-reads the text for about the forty fifth time. He checks the address, the times…everything. Is it too soon? Is he not giving himself enough time to recover? Grieve? Officially _get over_ Stan?

He gives himself a once over in the rearview mirror and opens the door deciding it's now or never.

But he’s nervous, a little freaked out, and trying to wrap his head around what he is doing, how he got to this point, how in the hell he plans on walking into a bar by himself. He’s always arrived with someone at his side, someone to stave off the patrons, to protect and guide him. He was never a party goer or one to go out in general. He was quiet, stayed behind Stan, and never strayed from his comfort zone.

He looks through the glass of the bar as he walks towards the door seeking out the green beanie. _Maybe he has a fancier one for dates-_ he stops right there because it isn’t a date. He nervously runs a hand through his freshly cut hair. _I am a loser._ It’s not a date. He knows it’s just a night out, a way for him to watch Harry’s band, a way to make friends.

 _Not a date. It’s not a date._ He keeps reminding himself.

He enters the bar and is met with a wall of bodies. _Oh fuck._ He cannot help but clasp his hands together as he apprehensively walks in. Under normal circumstances, he would run the other way, avoid this type of setting, hide under his sheets like a small child. He should have stayed home… _NO! Do this…I have to do it._

He straightens his back and walks further in to find a pocket in the crowd he can stand in and scope out the joint. There are bodies on all sides of him, engulfing him, nearly stepping on his smallish feet. He's wearing a white T-shirt and yet he is still invisible. _Maybe I should have worn bright yellow?_

He feels his phone buzz in his pocket but he’s too focused to look at it _,_ too focused on the crowd accidentally stomping on him, to focused on finding his date-… _fuck_.- Harry. He is searching for Harry and the hordes of people are just unrelenting.

His searching is unsuccessful. The bodies surrounding him are suffocating and so fucking close to him invading his space he wants to scream. He is being touched, pushed, thrown about like a doll and he hopes he made the right decision.

His stupid phone goes off again and UGH he cannot do this now! He pulls the phone free and sees-

“Officer Styles.” He picks up and plugs his ear to listen.

“Where-”

“I saw you. Walk back a little bit.” The voice is smooth, almost too cool, and making a chill crawl up his spine.

“Huh? Where?” He turns around as heat floods his cheeks. “But I don’t-”

“Keep going.” The man says over the phone. “I’ll stop you when you’re within reach. I like your hair by the way.” The phone goes silent. He looks down and sure enough, the guy hung up. _This is turning into a nightmare…_ but he noticed his hair. _He noticed my fucking HAIR!!_

He heads back the way he came and sighs because there is just a wall of people and he is super anxious. He ungraciously walks into the drunken crowd while scanning every face he passes. Everyone is a stranger. He finds no recognition in their eyes. He seriously is about to give up when a hand grazes his torso, a strong, sturdy hand might he add. But no he isn't a piece of meat, he has standards and respects himself. 

He is about to lash out at the person who obscenely touched him and only stops the moment those green eyes find his. _Oh my_.

This person in front of him isn’t Officer Styles, isn’t the man who helped him or the person he spilled his heart out to on the beach. This is Harry. Harry with the long, curly, chestnut colored hair, dimple, and breathtaking face. Harry with the deep voice, beautiful hands, and long legs. Harry _without_ the beanie and long sleeved shirt. Harry with the half open button down and perfectly sculpted collar bones and muscular chest. _Is my mouth watering? Because I may have drooled on my chin._

“You-…you’re-” Louis points in disbelief and is about to touch the man's hair but realizes how stupid he must look and refrains. His arms, or what he can see through the sheer fabric, are littered with tattoos and it’s…so-

“Hey.”

“H-hello?” He doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know if he should hug the man, kiss him on the cheek, simply give a handshake, or jump his bones. _What’s the proper protocol?_

“I thought maybe you weren’t coming.” The man starts with as he brings a beer to his incredibly pink lips.

“W-why would you think that?”

“You’re too far away, I can’t hear you.” Harry takes his trembling hand and pulls him closer. “I’m not a good lip reader.” _He touched my hand._

“I’m sorry!” Louis yells. “I haven’t been to a bar since I was probably twenty five.” The man makes a face at that. “Why do you think I wasn't coming?”

“You didn’t respond to my text.” Harry shrugs. “Usually one says _okay_ or _see you then_ as a reply.”

“I’m awful with texting.”

“I’ve come to notice...anyway. Do you want something?” Harry is beautiful. _Did I mention that already?_ And those fucking tattoos are pure art, a goddamn masterpiece, Pulitzer Prize worthy. The man is a magnet and Louis is slowly being pulled in. _He smells fabulous_. He instinctively moves closer. _Not a date._

“I don’t really drink.” He says unabashed.

“Try this and see if you like it.” Harry offers him the bottle which he accepts graciously.

“What is it?”

“Blue Moon. You may like it.” Louis doubts it but he takes a sip to appease the man. And as he suspected…

“Yeah nope. Sorry. I don’t do beer.” He moves closer again as he hands it back. _Why though? What if he isn’t into me?_ They’re practically within inches of each other and it’s nowhere near close enough.

“Hmph…may have to change that.” Harry finishes the contents of the bottle seemingly unfazed by his slow approach. Louis looks around. “Something wrong?”

“N-nope!” He replies with too much enthusiasm. “I was actually going to ask wher-” He is pushed from behind, his size unfortunately working against him, and lands head first into Harry’s insanely fit chest.

“Hey man! Watch it next time!” He hears and he cannot move just yet because the smell…his senses are taking it all in, drinking this man in. _This cannot be good!_ A set of hands land on his shoulders and he is trying his very best not to fall deeper into him because...all he can feel is warmth, protection, heaven. He's back on unsteady feet in seconds. _Wait but I was quite comfortable._ “You have a knack for falling into me.” _You are correct._

 _“_ I'm sorry.” He's deflated. “I shouldn't stand so close.”

“What if I wanted you-”

“Hey! There you are.” Louis nearly jumps out of his skin because fuck he was so distracted he didn't hear anyone approach.

“What's up, Sandy?” Harry greets his work partner. He turns around and recognizes the man. And for some reason. _..he's never been fond of me._ Sandy stares condescendingly towards him as a ghost of a sneer creeps onto his face.

“You invited the _boss_?” Louis’ eyes widen in horror.

“Shut up.” Harry snaps. “We're not at work.”

“Still…” Sandy crosses his arms and turns away. “Oh Liam and Zayn are here. Thank God.” He walks away leaving them alone. _Well, that was encouraging._ He sighs. _This was stupid. I'm not ready. Who am I kidding?_

“Ignore him.”

“I think I should go.” He replies hastily.

“Wait, why? Because of Sandy? The man is a cranky bastard. He's always like that.” Louis knows better.

“I don't think Zayn or Liam would want the _boss_ here either. It’s for the best.” _So much for having fun._ “I'll see you.” He heads back into the crowd.

“Don't go come on.” Harry is on his heel. Louis almost feels wanted. _Almost._

“Nope. I'm good.” _I'll go wallow in my sorrows. It's okay_.

“Can you slow down?” For once he is proud of his small stature as he easily maneuvers around the patrons who are between him and freedom. “I want you here…doesn't that matter in the least?” He feels that hand on his shoulder once more. He practically shies away from it but those fingers have quite the grip.

“What!” He bursts out. _Now I want to go home, hide under my blanket, and never come out._

“Quit moving so fast!” He wiggles free of the death grip and makes it to the door. He pushes through and speed walks to his car. _I can feel my back...why can I feel my back?_ “Lou, stop!” Being outside and away from the noise, the chatter, the clanking of beer bottles, the music, he can actually hear Harry's voice, the deep droll, the accent...he is in a lot of trouble.

“I think this was a mistake, you know coming here.” Louis continues to his car.

“Just stop walking for a second!” He feels the man's hand encircle his left bicep, he feels the tug, feels the pain in his back, the sheer panic that he'll be dragged like a child back into the bar. _No no no!! Not again!_

“Get off!!” He yells as he pulls his arm free. He has tears in his eyes, heat flooding his cheeks, fear consuming him. He has to get out of here. _I need space._ Harry drops his hand instantly.

“Shit. I'm sorry.”

“Go away!” Louis covers his head and hurries away to his car refusing to look back at the green eyed _monster_. All he sees is Stan, all he hears is that voice, all he feels is the hurt, the sadness, the feeling of being suffocated. He can't breathe, he feels light headed, he may pass out right here. He stops in the middle of the sidewalk and leans against a pole.

“Lou!” He hears him approaching and the panic is rising from his stomach and into his throat obstructing his airway choking the life out of him. He has to protect himself. But how is he supposed to when he can't move!? “Lou please. Look at me.” He hides his head in his free hand. “I am so sorry. I didn't mean to do that or hurt you. I don't want you to go that's all. But if you're that uncomfortable then I can't force you. I know it was too soon to invite you tonight but you seemed okay yesterday and I really wanted you here…” Harry trails off. Louis can't look at him, cannot look into those eyes, become so enamored in that smile he loses focus. He must keep his head clear and thoughts straight.  He feels sick all over again.

“I have to go.” He squeaks out and rushes away.

_It wasn't a date._

He was right and he never wanted to so be _wrong_ in his life _._

**Scene Eight: Louis’ House 01:45AM**

Louis stirs awake.

His head is still foggy from sleep but he cannot mistake the noises coming from the front of his house, the creaking of a door, the squeak of a floorboard. _Intruder_. He instinctively reaches for his gun and quietly stands from the bed as his years of training takes over.

He approaches the doorway and waits. He listens intently for the approaching footsteps, the breathing, the grazing against furniture. _You picked the wrong house, buddy._

The person is close...so close Louis can practically taste it. On impulse he rounds the corner and raises his gun into the intruder’s face.

“Don't fucking move.” His voice is stern, adamant, and in control. “Put your hands in the air.” The room is pitch black but he can make out the arms raising up. “You are under arrest for breaking and entering. Keep your hands visible until back up arrives.” This is all a script. A well-practiced script.

“Are you going to handcuff me? Because that would be hot.” He nearly drops the gun, stares into the darkness in utter disbelief.

“ _Stanley_ you fucking asshole. I could have killed you!!” He places the safety on his gun. “Why the fuck are you here?” He turns on the light and sits down on the mattress. “Shit you scared me.” He touches his chest feeling his heart race underneath his fingers. 

“I couldn't sleep.” Stan is standing in the doorway looking like he just rolled out of bed. _You're ugly._ _On the inside._

“So why not bother your fuck buddy?”

“I haven't slept in two nights.”

“Am I supposed to feel bad? Because I don't.” He looks at Stan, takes him in. “Leave.” He points to the door. “Leave and _do not come back.”_

“We need to talk.” Stan starts, ignoring him as per usual. “I want to tell you I'm sorry. I do not want our relationship to end like this. We have too much history.”

“And? You made your bed. You fucked up.”

“I didn't mean to! It was a stupid mistake.”

“Was it? Was it just a mistake?”

“Yes! And I am asking for your forgiveness.”

“No! You will not get off so easily. Stanley, you did more than cheat on me. You _hurt_ me, belittled me, made me feel like I was insignificant.” He stops to compose himself. “You starved me.” He spits out.

“I know it was stupid-”

“Not just with _food_.”  He points out.

“What are you talking about? I know what I did was wrong. I admit it! I was a selfish prick! Is that what you want to hear?”

“As a matter of fact, _yes_. I want you to see what you really are. See what a shitty person you've become.” Stan is watching him, absorbing what he is saying, hopefully taking it to heart, learning from it. “You used me, goddamn it! Fucking hurt me until I submitted to you, let you use me until I was battered and so broken.” He swipes at his eyes. “It was like I was nothing to you, a convenience, an easy target.” He hides his face behind his hands. “Did you ever love me?” He whispers. He doesn't really want to know that answer. He's too afraid, too ashamed, too blind to really see _. Do I need the confirmation?_  Stan's silence confirms his suspicions, makes him cry a little harder, makes him despise himself more for believing anything different. “A-alright then.” He clears his throat and vigorously wipes at his wet cheeks. “You know where the door is.” 

“It wasn't like that. You have to believe me.”

“No, I will never believe anything that comes out of that mouth of yours. You lie, _cheat,_ only think of your own needs...I refuse to waste another second on your pitiful existence.” He stands up and pushes the man away. “Just go away, Stanley. Leave me alone.”

The moment the man is gone, Louis breaks down into his hands, folds in on himself, allows the sorrow to take control, and bring forth the awaited depression he feared would surface.

Now he wishes he was numb.

**Scene Nine: Louis’ Bedroom, ???? PM**

_Something is there._

_His shoulder is pressed against the mattress, puffs of air are brushing against his collar bone, a hand is wrapped securely around his torso. He's warm._

_He moves his head to the side to get a better look at who (rather than 'thing’) is lying next to him and is met with a sea of brown curls. He is momentarily paralyzed because..._ when did this happen? _When did he fall asleep with him? Did they... do it?_

_He rests against the pillows and moves his gaze to the ceiling, enjoying the feel of this man on him, consuming his senses with his presence. He has never felt so content._

_He gently places his hand on top of the arm resting on his tummy._

_“I know you're staring at me.” The man whispers, his voice gravely from sleep. “You do it every night. Trust me, I'm not going anywhere.” He sighs._

_“Okay. I trust you.”_


	4. Fallen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's safe to proceed!!  
> Thank you!!

**Scene One: Hollywood Community Precinct 11:15PM**

He hid the rest of the weekend.

Stan left and he literally shut out the world, turned off his phone, and attempted to regain his composure after essentially crying until he passed out. 

Louis wants to think he couldn't believe it, wants to convince himself it came out of left field. But out of all honesty, he did, he could and it came true. Stan was pulling away from him emotionally and physically, giving hints, disgusting him, convincing him with horrible acts, and subjecting him to pain. He blames himself of course because it'll always be his fault for not seeing through the lies. But he dealt with his exes shit for so long he thought it was a phase, thought it was how he showed his affection. After all, that's what his father showed him... so how could he know anything different? Stan always took his aggression out on him, destroyed his confidence, made him feel small...he just didn't know any better. So he stayed, took it all, and _dealt_ with it.

And fine, he was in love with the man.

_That's what repulses me the most._

He gave his all, his heart, his entire being to Stan and it was never enough...nothing was ever enough. _Always lacking._ Always lacking and never had the strength to catch up.

“Alright, you ready?” He is fully aware of the recruit sitting in the driver's seat, revving the engine, smiling this ridiculous grin he almost wants to slap off.

“Yes, Gramps!” It's quite a comical site.

“Uh...Niall-” But his life is more important.

“Here we goooo!” The blonde speeds out of the lot and down the road into town.

“O-okay I don't wanna die!!” Louis is gripping the door handle and seat, bracing himself for an accident or some sort of fender bender. “Slow down!”

“You're the one who wanted to leave right away! So here I am putting as much distance between you and the precinct as possible.” He points a finger towards Louis. “You'll thank me later.”

“Look at the road!!” He feels motion sickness already.

“Woohooo !!!” Niall starts to cackle.

“Dude, I’ll tell Campbell.” Louis warns. The car nearly jolts to a stop sending him forward and practically into the window shield.

“I was _only_ joking!! Please don’t say anything…please!” The blonde begs. “Please I swear I was only listening to your orders and took it too seriously and and-”

"I was kidding. Calm down!”

“Seriously? Say you’re serious.” The recruit looks worried, eyes glassy, lips downturned.

“Niall. I would never do that to you. I was just getting a little motion sickness and you weren’t listening. Now please, put both hands on the wheel, and drive. Okay?”

“O-okay.”

They drive around town, look for crime, write a few tickets, breakup a crowd or two outside one of those famous bars, indulge in crappy food, and listen intently for a call to come over the radio It was a relatively busier evening and that was certainly something he hoped for.

“So how have I been doing?” Niall eventually asks. The kid is enthusiastic, a breath of fresh air, a bright light to Louis’ otherwise dull sense of humor. “I mean, I still cannot believe you picked me to be your driver!”

“You make it sound like you're my chauffeur.” Louis says as he takes another bite of a burger.

“But I kind of am.” The boy smiles. _I didn't have anyone else to ask who likes me._

“Sure if you want to think that...then fine.”

“I mean I was certain you'd pick Styles!” Niall speeds up. _If I wasn't such a damn child, I probably would have._ “I’m happy you didn't though...I would have gotten stuck with Sandy and that man is just miserable!!”

“Um...I guess?” He has to sound indifferent, neutral, completely unbiased...even though he couldn't agree more. _The guy is awful._

“Yeah...even at the bar the other night, the guy was just a dick.” Louis looks at the kid.

“You were there?” He rushes out, feeling a cold sweat breakout on his forehead. He puts the burger down, his appetite gone to the wind.

“Yeah, Harry said you had to leave. His band is incredible by the way.” Louis may just die right here. _Wow I was completely wrong, so wrong...so fucking stupid._

“Uh...yeah I wasn't feeling well.” He lies.

“Is that why you wanted to leave in a rush tonight? Are you avoiding him?” The blonde asks while at a stop light. He feels his chest tighten. He did not realize it was so obvious. _When did he become so observant?_

“Avoid?” He acts dumb because he is avoiding him, avoiding him like the fucking plague. _And now I am embarrassed to even think he wanted to hang out one on one._ Niall has not mentioned Officer Styles once in the past week and a half…and he wonders why he would bring him up now. _Maybe they’re good friends now? After all, Harry invited Niall out too_.

“Yeah. I saw him watching you...I guess waiting to speak to you? I don't know.” The recruit shrugs and continues driving. Louis diverts his gaze.

He cannot decipher the feelings boiling under his skin, the confusion disorienting him and fogging his thought processes.

“He looked bummed when I asked where you were.” Niall continues. “ _Oh!_ The Florence Nightingale effect!!”

“...what?” He feels his cheeks redden.

“Yeah ever hear of it? It's when someone falls in love with the person they're taking care of. I mean that's the short of it.”

“When did he-” _I passed out in the car. But no...it's nothing...it's not true._

“Well you had a panic attack and he sort of took over-” Louis stops listening, blocks out the voice talking to him about made up syndromes, gets so lost in thought he doesn't realize they have an emergency coming over the radio. _Save it for later._

“Boss!” He is pulled from his reverie and thank God. “We got a radio call.”

“Uh...y-yeah. Let's go.” They drive over to the cemetery when the location was confirmed. _I hate coming here during the day never mind at night._

“They said the drug dealer was wearing a black hoodie and blue jeans.” Niall says as they slow down. “They may possibly be armed.” _Fuckin great._

“Alright…” Louis is looking out the window for the possible suspects. “I don't know….we may have missed them. Oh there's the patrol car.” The call did mention two other officers were here. He just didn’t know which two. “We should probably-” He hears a faint yell in the distance followed by a gun shot. “Stop the truck!!” Louis yells and darts out of the vehicle hitting the pavement at full speed.

He isn't supposed to leave Niall, he isn't supposed to run into _anything_ alone but he's going, expelling the adrenaline coursing through his veins, the fear that a part of his team is in possible danger forging him forward. And never on his watch will he see one get hurt. _Good job. You lost focus and now look at what happened!_ He silently curses himself and prays he doesn't hear shouting or worse, more gunshots.

He can see an officer standing over a body on the ground in the distance. _That’s not-…Sandy._

“You alright?” He asks rather breathlessly. Sandy slowly turns his head as he approaches.

“The other guy got away. Harry went after him.” Sandy responds ignoring his question.

“ _Alone!?”_   He shrieks.

“I had to hold this guy. We didn't have a _choice_.” The officer snaps. “What would _you_ have done, huh?”

“Take him to the car. I'll find Harry.” _I would have called for back-up right away…not went into this alone._ “Which way did he go?”

“Towards the fountain.” Sandy points him in a direction.

“Thanks.” He heads further into the cemetery looking for Officer Styles. His mind starts to wander, every negative thought he could possibly have is there robbing him of his clarity. _What if he's hurt? What if I was too distracted? What if I caused this!?...Find him!!_ He is slightly panicking…he has never been the one responsible for so many lives or have to make an impulse decision that could hurt someone else. _It's always been me. Never us._ He already feels like he's failing, making him question his ability to be an affective sergeant. _Maybe I am not cut out for this-_

“Get down!” He hears the familiar voice, the accent, the overwhelming joy from hearing that soothing sound. He won't admit that he's missed it, but he missed it... more than he wants to, more than he ever thought were possible. That voice does something to him, makes his legs go weak, makes him feel…whole. “Put your hands where I can see them!” Louis is within sight, he can see Harry and the suspect in a sort of stand-off, the officer with his gun at the ready and the perp holding onto what looks to be a knife. “Sir, put the weapon _down_.” The man isn't responding and seems to be advancing on Harry, almost testing his limits. “ _Sir!”_ He sounds adamant, professional, and quite frankly terrified. Louis watches the man's stance, the way he is carrying himself, the way he's protecting himself with the knife, his stature. _I can take him_.

Without another thought, he's off hurdling towards the perp.

Time stands still as he lunges into the suspect knocking him off kilter. _No one will die on my watch. No one!_ He reaches for the hand holding the weapon attempting to contain him, retrieve the knife and put this man behind bars. He has a one track mind, a fucking thought planned out in his head and he has to succeed, has to prove his worth. _I've only got one shot!_

The man is thrashing his arms out, flinging the blade around, being reckless, shouting obscenities in his face. _I have to subdue him_. He puts forth all of his strength and reaches for the man's shoulders to push him over but the weapon strikes him instead. He gasps at the unexpected contact, at the cold slicing his cheek. He feels blood trickle down his chin instantly. Pain then erupts on his bicep nearly startling him again but he trudges on ignoring it.

Louis lunges forward to take hold of his shoulders and twist their bodies to regain control but nothing is working! The man is stronger than he appeared and is unfortunately getting the best of him. He seems to be one step ahead of Louis, especially wielding the knife. And the thought of getting struck once more holds him back.

“Louis!!” He hears. “Stop!” He throws out a final punch but loses his footing as the guy parries right avoiding the blow. His momentum propels him forward and onto the ground leaving him completely exposed and vulnerable. _Great...just great_.

He looks up to find the perp advancing and stares at the hand weilding the weapon. _Shit. That's going straight to my_ \- The blade is driven into his outer thigh without hesitation, without care, without _remorse_ , and it hurts. The knife easily breaks the skin and sinks deep into his flesh leaving a burning sensation in its wake.

Louis is frozen as he stares at the blade being pulled free from his leg. He is panting in agony, unable to comprehend how he managed to fuck that up so quickly, how he thought he could contain this man on his own. _It was all so fast.._.

“Sergeant!” He vaguely hears Harry but it's hard to concentrate. The man is above him looking to strike out once again but Harry is on him, holding the drug dealer still. “I told you to put your _fucking_ hands in the air.” Harry spits out. He easily apprehends the perp and handcuffs his wrists behind his back. “Now stay down.” He forces the man to his knees. “You've got real balls, mate.”

“Fuck off!!” The perp yells as he struggles against the constraints.

“Um, no thank you.” _Harry. My goodness, Harry._

“What happened!?” Niall can be heard and is soon joining them. “Gramps!! Are you okay?” The recruit runs to him.

“Niall, take this guy back to the car. I have to call an ambulance.”

“N-no!! I'm good.” Louis lies. He doesn't want to go to the hospital. “Just a flesh wound.” He attempts to convince himself and goes to stand but his left leg gives out the moment he applies pressure. “Uh oh.” He looks down at his pants and finds blood seeping through and soaking into the fabric. “That's a lot.” He chokes out.

“Niall! Take him!!” Harry practically throws the relatively smaller person at the blonde. _He wasn't small to me…then again anyone looks small against Harry._

“Got it.” Niall takes hold of the man and pushes him away. “Let's go. It's jail time for you, buddy!” He's almost out of ear shot but Louis can still hear him. “Hope you look good in orange.” He wants to smirk...chuckle, release a laugh because right now he's...not doing so well and any escape from this moment would be a fucking blessing.

“Lou!! Look at me.” Harry is next to him, touching him, practically holding him in his arms. “He got your face, arm and leg. Are you okay? I'm calling an ambulance now.” The officer calls over his radio.

“Wait!!...I don't-” _Don't... please!! I can't afford shit right now. I need to work._

“Why did you do that, huh? I _fucking_ had it!” Harry turns on him, still holding him close. _Is he angry? Why is he upset?_

“I...what?” He's confused and in a little pain, you know from being stabbed and all.

“You jumped that guy! He was armed damn it! What if he had a fucking gun!?” It's like he's being lectured all over again and he doesn't really care for it.

“W-well you shouldn't be here alone anyway.” He feels suddenly light headed. “You left S-Sandy and you can't do that either!” The pain is creeping its way up his leg and into his abdomen.

“Lou, you're...goddamn it.” Harry looks down at his injured arm.

“What?” He keeps his face calm even though his body is starting to tremble most likely from shock.

“Your blood is on my shirt.” Harry touches his unscathed cheek prompting Louis to look at him. “You saved me.” The man whispers. “I didn't want to shoot him...you never want to do that. It's not worth the psych testing they subject you to afterwards. And what if I missed? What then? But you're injured now. You're hurt and it's my fault.”

“N-no. It's not. It's my fault. I was...distracted earlier and should have arrived sooner.” Harry's hand is still on his cheek, his thumb running along his bottom lip, and he cannot look away, cannot lose sight of this being in front of him drawing the pain away. “I heard a gun go off-”

“That was the dude with the drugs. Sandy got him quick though.” Harry's hand is _still_ there, sending bursts of warmth up and down his shivering frame. And fine excitement...it's a very tender touch.

“Oh.” Those green eyes have him entranced. _Is he moving closer? Florence Nightingale effect!!!_

“Lou, I'm sorry for hurting you. I didn't mean to reach out like that.” Harry pauses a moment. _Reach out?_ “...it's just-”

“Hey! Who needed medical attention?” Both men look up and find two uniformed EMTs entering the clearing. “Ah there we have it.”

Louis stares into Harry's face forgetting his injuries, his mind focusing purely on him. _What was that?_ He is almost certain the officer pulls him closer on impulse.

And he cannot help but wonder why.

**Scene Two: Louis’ Bedroom 10:45AM**

The knife wound will heal.

He'll heal.

His ego will hopefully heal.

_I went down like a sack of potatoes._

He'll be alright...eventually.

But for Christ’s sake, he couldn’t even properly fight back! _What’s wrong with me?_

In the end though, he saved Harry, prevented him from making a rash decision, a decision one could only make in a split second to save their life and really, it was worth it. Officer Styles is an incredible cop, reliable and strong, smart witted, quite the fine package. _Fine...I'd say._ But to have a shooting on his record even for self-defense? It would not matter, there are always loop holes. So the injuries he sustained were worth it.

He has been lying in bed for what feels like an eternity. He didn't want to go to the hospital and be put on probation which will prevent him from working that extra day to make a few more bucks. _Now I can't work overtime. How the hell am I supposed to make my mortgage payment?_ He hasn't stopped thinking about that since the suspect lashed out, hasn't stopped worrying that he'll get thrown out of his house and be stuck scrounging for a place to live, be forced to give up his cats. _I’ll live in my car…that will probably get taken away though too_. He feels tears in his eyes.

He wishes he didn’t feel so alone right now, wishes he could snuggle against a warm body and hide from his shitty life, be at ease, feel complete. He runs his tongue along his bottom lip and can practically taste the finger that was there, practically feel the pressure of that thumb touching him. He closes his eyes and remembers the sensation. Even as spaced out as he was, he can still remember it as clear as day, remember the way Harry held him and looked into his eyes, speaking in such soft tones he can feel his body turn to mush. _Touch me again._

He hoped Harry would accompany him to the hospital and help him home.

But no.

See, life is unfair and these events never turn out the way he truly intended.

He was brought to the ER, treated for his injuries, and was picked up by...his emergency contact which he failed to change after the break up. _I forgot it was still a thing…_

“Here are the pain meds. The doctor said to take one every couple of hours or as needed.” Stan is next to the bed holding the pill bottle out to him. Louis eyes him wearily.

“Thanks.” His ex was supposed to leave him alone, was supposed to fucking drop his sorry ass off and continue on with his life. But again, life is unfair and he stayed gracing Louis with his fucking presence he doesn't care for anymore. He turns his attention back towards the television dismissing the man.

“Did you need anything else?”

“Just for you to leave.”

“Lewis, stop.”

“Fuck you.” He furiously pets the cats.

“I'm here to help-”

“I don't _want_ your help!” He yells. “I’ll be sure to change my information at work so you're not bothered again.”

“But I wasn't bothered.” The man says. “I was scared shitless actually.”

“ _Why?_ Why would you care?”

“I still worry about your well-being. We may no longer be together, but I still fear for your life when you're working. I care about you and always will.”

“Just STOP with the crap!! You never cared for me or my life! Quit talking out of your ass.”

“Lewis I'm not!”

“Stanley, just go. You hurt me enough.”

“I don't want to anymore.” Stan moves to sit on the bed.

“Do _not_ get comfortable!! I want you out of here!” Louis feels the tears in his eyes. “Stanley, I want you out of my life and out of my house and just gone! You cheated, never cared for my needs, abused me... just _go_!!” He points to the door.

“I said it was a mistake! Don’t you get that?! I didn’t mean to cheat…she was just so easy.”

“I can’t listen to this! Why are you doing this?!” He hides his face in his hands, feels the pinching from his face wound, the stinging in his arm, the throbbing in his leg.

“I never had the chance to speak with you and I need to.” Stan plays with the pill bottle in his hands. “She wasn’t meant to stay around for so long. Only a short while.”

“J-just please shut up.” He whispers. _Maybe if I daydream I’ll forget he’s here._

“We were supposed to stop when she got engaged but old habits die hard I suppose.”

“Am I an old habit? Is that why you kept coming back?” He struggles to get the words out. _I can’t…please God help me_.

“No. No you were never a habit. You were always different.”

“I hate you. Please get out!” He feels that unrelenting sob in his stomach, that same sob he remembers forming when the numbness faded.

“Lewis, I-”

“Don’t you dare fucking say _love you_. DO NOT finish that goddamn sentence.” He yells.

“I was supposed to take _her_ to the Strand House. Not…you…” How can one feel worse? Is that possible? Can the ache in his heart hurt more than his leg? Will anything compare?

“Get out. GET THE FUCK OUT. You piece of scum. I loathe you. I hate the very air you breathe and the space you occupy. You are an awful, terrible human being and I wish you to disappear from my life!” He stares into Stan’s _ugly_ face, watches those eyes switch from cool and collected to cold and menacing. _Just like your father._

“Here I am trying to explain myself, admit it was a fucking mistake but _you_ always twist my words and make it about how bad I’ve treated you, how much _I’ve_ done wrong but you’re just as bad, just as selfish and needy. You will amount to _nothing_. You’ll remain pathetic and alone until the day you die.” The man stands up. “Your wish is granted. You'll never see me again.” He heads towards the door. “And kiss this house goodbye. Unless you plan on paying for it…so good luck with _that_!” Stan disappears into the hallway and stomps out of the house.

Louis hates it, hates his life, hates what he's done to himself, hates how he got himself so wrapped up in another human being he cannot even function alone. He moved away from his family, from his life, and from everything he's known for this man, made sacrifice after sacrifice and received nothing in return except shit. He's lost and wonders when he'll find his way, when he’ll find that path to ultimate happiness…wonders if he’ll ever feel happiness at all.

He starts to cry once more into his hands as reality sinks into his bones crippling him, leaving him bereft and so melancholy he isn't sure he'll ever recover. He feels his back start to hurt. The familiar sting reminding him of what he's done, reminding him he will most likely run back to that awful man and beg for his forgiveness to survive, to bring him a semblance of a life he used to seek comfort in.

Why though? Why does he feel like this?

Is it because he isn't over it? Still in love with Stan? Still heartbroken from being cheated on? So far gone and stuck on the man he can never escape it? _He chose someone else. He chose a woman. He never loved me._ _He'll continue to hurt me again._

George and Luke are watching him, nuzzling his legs, showing their support. Honestly it's more affection than Stan has ever shown so what's the deal?

His phone starts to buzz.

He reaches for it and sees an incoming call from _Officer Styles._ His heart starts to pump in his chest, the anticipation of hearing _that_ voice raising his excitement. _I am pathetic._ He swipes his eyes, clears his throat and accepts the phone call pushing the Stanley shit to the side.

“Hello?” He sounds too raspy.

“Hi.”

“Shouldn't you be asleep?”

“Yes but I wanted to check up on you.” He remains silent. _Why?_ “I wanted to go with you to the hospital but I had to voucher that perp’s possessions and collar him. I'm sorry.”

“You had a job to do. Don't worry about me.”

“But I do… _worry._ ”

“Oh.”

“I'm outside.” He hears the man sigh into the receiver.

“Y-you are?” _Did he pass Stan?_ _How did he get my address!?_

“Yup.”

“Oh um…” Louis looks down at his leg and to the crutches resting against the nightstand. “Is it unlocked?”

“I didn't try that.” He hears the door open. “Bingo.” _Holy fuck._ He hangs up and looks at the cats.

“If Daddy says anything stupid, I'm allowing you to bite my leg.” He rushes out. He swipes his eyes again fearing he’ll look like a child with puffy eyes and red cheeks. _It’s okay I can say I was in a lot of-_

“Grandpa Lou?”

“In here!” He is staring at the door, waiting to see that... _oh I am totally fucked._ His hair is lose, face a little pale, eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep but he is still so precious and beautiful. “Hi.”

“Hey. So can I um, come in?”

“Please. Sit down.” He pats the mattress. _The BED?! What are you giving him an invitation?_ Harry takes in his surroundings as he enters, searches the space for... what?

“Great place you've got here.” The officer runs a hand through his hair and _fuck_ that simple movement does something to him _down there_.

“Uh, thank you.”

“Who are they?” Harry asks as he sits on the foot of the bed and looks to the felines.

“Luke and George! Boys say hello!” Both cats simply sit and stare, blink lazily, and yawn. “Now that's not very nice.” He coos because honestly he cannot help it.

“Ha! You're cute.” His heart does a dance. “This one here, the chubby one.” _Duh, Lou he's talking about the cat_.

“Uhm...that's George he isn't the _friendliest._ ” The cat saunters over to Harry and _allows him_ to pick him up. “Oh, he must like you.”

“Yeah look at that.” Officer Styles pets the feline absently. “How are you feeling?”

“I'm alright. I'm on desk duty until further notice.” He groans.

“That's not so bad.”

“It's crap! I can't make overtime.” He snaps. “The doctor wants me to do physical therapy and everything. I could be out a good month.” _More money gone._ He looks at the man who is petting George, the man with the slight downturned mouth, the sadness palpable. “What's wrong? You're not the one hurt! You get to live your life normally.”

“That's not it.” Harry hides his face. “It’s my fault your hurt.”

“Stop saying that! I went after that guy myself! I thought I could overtake him but I misjudged his strength. And crap I was wrong...that guy was _stronger_ than he looked.”

“No, see when Sandy and I found those men in the middle of a deal, I held off calling for help. I thought we could handle it. Then shit spiraled out of control and then the one guy got away, one had a gun...it was a mess.”

“Alright? And? We all make decisions and that was yours-”

“But now you're injured! What if it was worse?”

“It's not so stop. I'll survive.”

“Yeah, and I made a shit decision. Who knows how many I will make in the future…” He trails off. George hops off the bed. “Are you in pain? How is your face?”

“It stings when I smile but I don't smile much so…”

“I want to change that.” Harry rushes out. “Um, well you know what I mean. I uhm...don't want to see you sad.” _Why do you care though?_

“Oh...I see.” Louis looks out the window. “What did you want to tell me?”

“When?”

“Before those EMTs came. You sounded like you were in the middle of a thought.”

“I was hoping you'd forgotten about that.” Harry turns bright red and grips his hands in his lap.

“Why? You can't keep that from me now!” Louis stares at him.

“My band is playing again Saturday.” The man changes the subject. “Please come and _don't_ leave early because of Sandy?”

“I uh…” He takes in the state of his leg. “How will I get there? I can't drive yet. I'm on pain meds.”

“I can.” His eyes widen in surprise.

“That's very kind of you but am I out of the way? I don't want to you know, make it inconvenient.”

“You're not an inconvenience that's for sure.”

“I'm not?” He can feel his leg pulse.

“Not in the least, Gramps.”

“Ugh I'm going to kill Niall.”

“I think it's a great nickname.” Harry's face is still red. _Is that embarrassment?_ “But fine I'll stop even though you gave me permission.”

“I'm rescinding the permission. You can only call me Lou. Or anything but Gramps.”

“Deal.” They look to one another then. _Maybe he'll help me_. “And I'll come by Saturday night?”

“Uh…” _I…I can’t. Not this time_. “I can’t, Harry.” The officer’s face falls. “I am over Stan but I need-”

“I understand, no need to explain. I do _not_ want to pressure you into anything until you’re ready.” He nods and diverts his gaze. Louis is feeling it, feeling the injuries, feeling his head start to pulse. He reaches for the pill bottle on his nightstand but it's not there.

“Oh, that's strange…”

“What's wrong?” The man asks.

“My pain meds are not here.” The knife wound is starting to throb. “I waited too long to take one.” He keeps his face stoic. _Don't show it._

“Maybe they fell?” Harry looks on the ground and below the bed. “Nope. Not here. I'll go check in the kitchen.” Louis lies back against the pillows trying his best to put the pain aside but it hurts, the pulsing is getting unbearable. “Where did you see them last?”

“I don't remember.” He rushes out. “Fuck.” He tries not to wince.

“Are you okay?” Harry is by him once again. “Would they be in the loo…um bathroom?”

“No…they wouldn’t be…” Louis has a realization. “ _Stan_. That fucking jerk.” He remembers. “Stan had the goddamn bottle! He took them!!” He feels tears sting his eyes. “That asshole!”

“It's okay. We'll get more.”

“ _We can't!_ It's a controlled substance! They'll never prescribe me more!” The pain...the fucking pain…

“Well, where does Stan live?”

“Does it matter? The man is a fuck.” He scrunches his eyes closed. “I'll just um...take an OTC pain killer.”

“That's not enough! Let me find him.”

“Harry just drop it.”

“ _No_. Give me his address.” The man sounds adamant.

“It's okay!”

“Louis if you do not give me his address I swear to God.”

“...alright? Where's the threat?” He eyes Harry attempting to hide the discomfort.

“I'll take your crutches away.”

“That's below the belt.”

“Hey, I have to do what I have to do and you can't sit here like this.” Louis reluctantly gives in.

“Just ask him _nicely_ for it. I don't want to get blamed for a black eye.”

“I'd never do such a thing!” Harry is standing next to the bed. “Do you need anything? Another In-n-Out burger?”

“Eh, maybe a taco or two.”

“Alright, your wish is my command.”

“Hurry up! I'm hungry!!” _And ready to chop my leg off_.

“Yes, your highness.” Harry bows and walks out of the room.

_I mean of course Stan would take my pills. Why on Earth should I have any semblance of comfort?_

He rests against the pillows and closes his eyes. His leg is on fire but right now he needs to sleep and dream. Dream of a moment in time he can truly smile.

Louis awakens a little while later, finds the food and pill bottle on the nightstand with a note scribbled on the back of a receipt. He takes the message and cannot help but smile…

_Hey-_

_I came back and you were asleep.  
_

_Stan is a fuck and almost didn’t give me the pills but I worked my magic and vuala! Retrieved the goods._

_Eat some tacos and rest up. I’ll see you soon._

 

Louis is fucked.

**Scene Three: Louis’ House, 03:30 AM**

His phone is buzzing off the hook.

And has been for the past twenty minutes. He was close to ignoring it but now he just…can’t any longer. He reaches a hand out towards the nightstand and retrieves the phone.

“Hello?” He sounds awful, exhausted, so sleep deprived it's comical.

“LOU!!” He hears the voice and recognizes it instantly. “You’re awake. Thank goodness you’re awake. I was calling you for _ever_ and you didn’t pick up!”

“Officer?” He chokes out in shock.

“Oh, please don’t call me _that_. We’re not at work!” The man speaks to someone in the background. “He woke up! I woke him up! He’s on the phone _right now!_ ”

“Harry?”

“That’s more like it! I love how you say my name. Please say it again?” The man croons into the phone. “No! No! I can’t ask him for that…he can’t-” Harry is obviously having two conversations at once: one with Louis and another one with…someone else?

“Ask me what?” He sits up in bed. “Harry, are you okay? Do you need something?”

“I _do!!_ I do need something…but see the thing is I just don’t know if they need _me_ , yeah?” _Okay but what the fuck is going on?_

“Why did you call me? Are you hurt?”

“Louis! I wanted to call because….NO! I can’t ask him for a ride. He’d _never_ do that!”

“Who are you speaking to?” He finally asks because quite frankly, he wants to go back to sleep. “Harry, is this a drunk dial? Did you intend on calling me?”

“YES! I want to…I want…I want to go home and I need you…I meant I need a ride and I wanted you to…What? Did I say something wrong?” Harry goes off and speaks to whomever he was having a conversation with. “As I was saying, Lou-eeee I really wanna see you…you were supposed to be with me…I meant…ugh…I love your hair!”

“You drunk?”

“Sorta…okay yeah I am…” He chuckles into the phone. “But I swear I didn’t mean to! I just kept getting shot after shot and…there were _so_ many!!” He hears the man giggle over the phone and it’s quite possibly the cutest thing Louis has heard.

“Are you at the bar?”

“Yeah!! The bar you left me at…I felt bad you know…really bad. I wanted to hold your-…why can’t I say that?!” He sounds exasperated. “I can say I wanted him to _hold me_ who cares?!” His eyes widen. _Whaaaaat?_

“I’ll be there soon, alright? Just hold on. Don’t _move_.” He says into the phone praying Harry comprehends his simple instructions and hopes he doesn’t fall over after _that_ confession.

“Louis, I’d wait forever for you.”

“Oh…alright well, I’ll be there soon. Forever is a long time.”

“Yay!!! See you soon!!!” He hangs up.

 _Holy fuck_. He runs a hand down his face, slowly gets out of bed and hobbles to the closet for a sweater and a pair of sneakers.

 _I am not supposed to drive goddamn it…_ But how can he turn this down?

And Harry…what is…Does he like Louis?

**Scene Four: Seven Grand Whiskey Bar, 04:15 AM**

He drove.

He drove when he wasn’t supposed to, drove against the doctor’s orders, probably disrupted the healing process. But Harry is worth it…Harry helped him…Harry showed him kindness…He didn’t even think twice when he changed gears and felt a shooting pain up his leg and into his back. He had to get to him, make it up to him when Louis didn’t come tonight to see his band. _I’ll come I promise…I just can’t now. I need to heal_.

That would confirm his answer.

That would confirm why he did not go to the bar tonight and spend time with Harry and his friends.

He has to heal, _mentally_.

Give himself space.

“ _Harry_.” He sees the man outside the bar sitting on the ground with Zayn standing over him looking equally as inebriated. It’s a funny sight…a drunk man attempting to help his drunk friend. He pulls up in front and puts his hazards on. He limps out and heads towards them.

“Hey.”

“Sergeant!” Zayn greets him. “How are you?” _I guess he was speaking with Zayn_.

“What’s up? And please call me-”

“He likes to be called LOU! Gosh _Zayn_ don’t you ever listen?!” Harry slurs from his place on the ground. “Or _Grandpa Lou._ But only I’m allowed to call him that!” The man starts to cackle and throw his head back into the facade of the building. “Ouch.” Louis smirks and slowly bends down in front of him.

“But I rescinded that remember?” He tentatively reaches out to Harry, places his hand on that broad shoulder. _I’ve never touched him…well never mind. I fell into his chest…twice_.

“Oh Louis it _is_ you.” Harry is so far gone…it’s scary.

“Yes I am here. I said I would come.”

“Thank god! Harry hasn’t shut up the entire night!” Zayn says. “We finally convinced him to call you. Sorry it’s so late…figured you’d be awake since you work overnights…guess not.”

“I haven’t worked since the confrontation with that drug dealer. I’ve been on a normal sleep schedule.”

“Oh but Lou-eeee this is normal for us now. You too! Should be normal for you too!” Harry reaches forward and places his hands on his forearms. “I wanna go home now though.” His green eyes are probing, captivating him, pulling him, so…inviting and full of life. Louis is transfixed, lost…and wow he needs to break contact or he’ll want to remain here in this bubble forever. _Forever…he’ll wait forever_. 

“That’s right. I’m taking you home.” Louis carefully stands up. “Zayn, help me out?”

“Sure, man!”

They both take one of Harry’s hands and drag him up.

“Wooaaahhhh the world is spinning.” He starts to giggle. “Weee!”

“Harry, stop twirling!” Louis takes his hand and keeps him still. “Let’s go to my car…see? It’s this one.” He opens the door.

“Oh, Lou a _Stang_. I’ve always wondered who owned this…It’s a beautiful car. So beautiful and perfect…just like-”

“Come _on_ Harry! In the car you go!” Zayn interrupts. _Just like who?_ They guide Harry in.

“Oh what a small space!” The man folds his long legs into the front seat. “I’m ready!!”

“You need a seatbelt though, so buckle up.” Louis instructs.

“Yes, boss!” The smile on his face is…entrancing. He cannot help but stare at him.

“Alright boys! Have _fun!!_ ” Zayn waves.

“Oh Lord…” Louis rounds the car and methodically sits down all the while ensuring his leg doesn’t twist in the wrong direction.

“Are you buckled in?”

“Y-yes, Louis. I am.” He looks over at Harry and he…is not.

“Really?”

“I need _help_. I can’t get it in the small red part.” Louis takes a deep breath and reaches over him to take hold of the buckle. He is fully aware of Harry, fully aware of their proximity, fully aware that if the man leaned forward and kissed him he’d probably let him, drunk and all. “You’re so close.” He pulls the belt over his lap and clicks it in place.

“Sorry. You have to be safe.” He starts the engine.

“I want you close.” Harry looks out the window and waves to Zayn. “Is that a bad thing?”

“Not at all.” Louis starts to drive. “It’s not bad at all.”

“Thank goodness because I can’t wait anymore. It’s getting more difficult to stay…away…”

“Stay away?” He questions. But the other man is quiet…silent and sleeping. “Oh…great.” He starts to drive but realizes… _Shit where does he live?_ “Harry?” He says. “Harry!” He nudges the man gently on the arm.

“What happened?!” Harry jolts awake and looks around forgetting where he is. “W-wait…” He looks over at Louis. “Oh I’m _not_ dreaming. Louis, am I dreaming? Are you real?”

“…Yes I am.” He cannot believe what he’s hearing. “I am real and I need your home address.”

“ _Oh!_ 308 3 rd Street…Now you can come any time!” Harry smiles that dimpled grin that goes straight to his… _Am I fucking hard?_ He shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

“A-alright?”

“Yeah, Lou…yeah.” Harry passes out again.

He drives in silence. _Well what do I do with this?!_

**Scene Five: Harry’s Condo, 05:30 AM**

Louis looks up.

_Two floors? There are two floors?!_

How in the fuck is he going to get Harry up a flight of stairs?! He looks back at the man sitting in the passenger seat of his car. _Fuck_. He sighs and begins the impossible task of…getting Harry to bed.

“Dude, lift your legs! I can’t carry you.” Louis begs as he guides him up the steep steps.

“Whyyy? I want you to hold me.” The man leans into him. “I want your arms around me.”

“I uh…what?” 

“You’re so compact and cute.” 

“Thanks?” He watches Harry slowly trudge up the stairs. “That’s right…lift up your leg.”

“I’m trying Sergeant!”

“Shhh….quiet down. You’ll wake up your neighbors.”

“I’m their landlord, Lou-eee. I can’t get in trouble…unless they tell my father.” Harry starts to giggle. “But they won’t.”

“Your father?” Louis is gripping the man’s waist, holding him impossibly close.

“Yeah he bought it for me. But I don’t wanna talk about him right now.” Harry makes a face.

“That’s fine…OWE!” Louis’ leg gives and collapses over onto the landing dragging the man on top of him.

“Oh _Lou!_ ” Here he is laying on the ground, with Harry on top of him, leg throbbing with such intensity he is practically seeing stars, and let’s not forget the erection. _Why!_

“Fuck…fuck fuck fuck!” He yells in frustration.

“Are you mad?” He hears the voice, the sincerity, the fear.

“No Harry I just…” He looks up and finds Harry’s irises, notes the redness, the glassiness.

“I’m s-sorry. I didn’t mean to make you mad.” The man starts to sob. “This was not h-how this was supposed to go!” Louis gently pushes the man away, conjures as much strength as he can, and lifts himself up. “Please don’t leave. _Please_. I-I want you here with me.” He takes Harry’s hand in his and pulls.

“I _will not_ leave until you’re in bed, sound good?”

“B-but-” Harry is on his unsteady feet.

“No, no. No more crying. Here let me…um…” He swipes at the man’s face ridding it of the excess tears. “We’re almost there.”

“Okay.” Harry sniffles. Louis walks into the condo and can barely contain is surprise. _Holy fuck_ this place is absolutely gorgeous. _How does he afford this? He did say his father bought it for him…must be some rich bloke._ “M-my room is this way, Lou-eeeee.”

“Alright, lead the way.”

“Oh the sergeant is putting the cop in charge, eh?” Harry wiggles his eyebrows. There is a hint of sadness in his eyes Louis is sure he placed there by accident. He did not mean to cause him harm but his cock is pulsating in his pants and he needs to take care of that immediately. _I’m injured too. Don’t forget that!_ He is finding it difficult to keep his temper in check.

“Is this it?” They walk down a short hallway.

“This is _where the magic happens!_ ” Harry pushes forward and skips to the bed but nearly topples over. “Oh!! I forgot…I’m just a wee bit unstable.” He plops down on the mattress. “Sit next to me?” The curls are in his face obstructing his eyes, hiding that beautiful face Louis found himself lost in. He takes a deep breath and limps over. “Do you like my gold boots?” He lifts his legs revealing a ridiculously sparkly pair of shoes.

“Those are quite loud.”

“Mmmhmm…I wanted you to see them. Now you can…they shine as bright as your eyes…well your eyes are so pretty. They make me happy.” Louis is gaping at him, unable to process anything. “They’re so blue…” Harry pushes the hair out of his face. “L-Louis?”

“Yeah?” His heart is pumping, hands sweating, mind muddled. _Is he moving closer to me?_

“L-Lou, I wanna…I want-” The man leans forward and falls into his shoulder. He instinctively wraps his arms around him, holds him close, feels the rise and fall of his chest as he sleeps against him.

“Oh dear God.” He sighs. “Passed out again.”

He wants to say he was prepared to be kissed but not like this…not when Harry is drunk and not when he is so horny. _I really need to take care of that._

He gently pushes Harry down onto the pillows and removes his glittering boots. He makes it a point to fill a glass with water and searches for some sort of OTC medicine that can be taken in the morning to stave off the hangover. Louis looks down at the man who is sprawled out on the bed covers, mouth slightly ajar, face peaceful, hands resting gently on his tummy. He looks perfect…there is nothing more beautiful than this sight right here. He swipes a few straggling pieces of hair out of his face and looks at those lips…dreams of kissing them, dreams of them wrapped around his shaft, dreams of waking up next to them and feeling their softness when he wants to.

The need in the pit of his stomach is growing, blossoming into something so fierce only Harry can satisfy it. The erection in his pants is nothing compared to this…not as strong…not as terrifying. _What the fuck is wrong with me?!_ He continues to watch the man sleep, stares at the form unable to breakaway and escape. It’s like he is paralyzed, his brain keeping him still, forcing him to watch this person, take him in, memorize every detail. It’s pure perfection in front of him, something flawless, a beautiful painting.

He _can’t_ leave.

He is trapped, attached to this person’s very soul…and not against his will. He wants to be here, wants to lie on this bed next to him, feel the warmth, the desire, the love, wrap his arms around that man and protect him. _I need to be here_.

And that thought scares him.

He’s never felt like this…even towards Stan. 

_I need to be here._

So he stays.

 


	5. Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You may proceed!

**Scene One: Harry’s Condo, 10:30 AM**

He hasn’t slept.

He wants to blame the snoring coming from the massive man next to him, wants to blame the foreign bed, and unfamiliar scents flooding his nose, or possibly the dull ache from his injuries. But no, it’s none of that. It’s the arm resting across his torso, the arm that pulled him close, the arm that _hasn’t_ moved for nearly three hours.

He’s since memorized every tattoo lining the bicep and forearm, committed every freckle to memory, touched each finger, ran his hand up and down the length of that arm savoring in the feel and softness. He was careful, he was methodical, he was enjoying himself too much but now he is exhausted.

Harry opened up last night, admitted some facts Louis is still wrapping his brain around. It’s almost like the officer has it bad for him, thinks his eyes are pretty, wants him to _be here_. _He thinks I’m compact and cute…I don’t know if that offends me or makes me hot._ When did this happen though? When has Harry had the opportunity to even see him? To get to _know_ him?

He’ll have to get to the bottom of this, figure out what the guy is thinking… _He wants me close._ But how close is close? Does he want Louis to sit close to him? Lay close to him? Be a close friend? _Shit I hope it’s not a friend…I’ll take what I can get though_. He wonders how those lips would feel-

The arm tightens around him, tugs him closer, the fingers wrap around his torso giving him a slight squeeze. He cannot believe he stayed over, decided to sleep in _the same bed_ , stayed up to watch the man sleep and cuddle into him. _Holy shit I am in so much trouble_. Is it really trouble though? He just…finds this person intriguing and so freaking beautiful he cannot _stop_ staring! _Maybe it’s the accent…or the legs…or that smile…_

He looks over, stares at the angelic face, perfectly sculpted jawline, curly hair…He absently (and with featherlike touches) brushes a few strands out of Harry’s face to get a better view.

“Ah, there we go.” He slaps his hand over his mouth and starts to laugh at himself.

“Uh…” The body next to him begins to stir, the arm is tugging him impossibly close, the heat radiating off of the man making Louis sweat. _Or is that nerves?_ “W-what…” Harry murmurs as he shoves his face into Louis’ shoulder. He remains still, starts to mentally freak out, begins to uncontrollably sweat, feels his heart pumping. “…time is it?” He speaks into Louis’ shoulder.

“Almost eleven.” He responds.

“Ugh…more sleep. I need m-more sleep.” Harry moves his other arm around Louis’ back- _Uh oh_ \- and hugs him. “F-few more hours.” And soon he is once again asleep. _FUCK!_ He’s trapped, snuggled close to this man, wide awake, and in need of a bathroom. This would be absolutely adorable if he wasn’t so nervous. _I am lying in bed with another man. A man who I think likes me, a man I’ve seen in my dreams, a man I kind of want in my pants, a man who is probably really hung over, a man who is not STANLEY_.

He is getting excited, he feels his arousal underneath his skin coming to life, has this sudden need to kiss those lips, get naked…He cannot help but squirm in response. _Fuck…_ He looks over at Harry praying he is still asleep, praying he does not wake up anytime soon to witness his very apparent erection through his sweats. _I could say morning wood…I mean…it is quite common…but what the fuck? Am I a teenager?_

He feels like it though, feels like he is back in school again…having a stupid crush on someone. He rolls his eyes because it’s just ridiculous to think…hard to believe that he could fall for this guy as fast as he did, believe it was possible to move on from Stan.

_I’m NOT dead though!_

He relaxes his eyes, tentatively lays his hands on Harry’s arm, and savors the feel. _I can at least enjoy this for now_.

**Scene Two: Harry’s Condo, 01:30 PM**

He’s cold.

 _Why am I cold?_ He rolls over and reaches his hand out looking for the cats but accidentally touches a-

“What?” He opens his eyes and is met with a body, a naked torso and a cotton clad leg. His eyes widen in horror and bolts up. “Oh _shit_.” He yelps.

“Good morning to you.” He slowly turns his head and sees Harry who looks to be freshly showered and so goddamn perfect his heart may have skipped a few beats. “You looked so peaceful I didn’t want to disturb you.” 

“I…I uh…what?” He runs a hand through his messy fringe. “What time is it?”

“After one actually.”

“ _What?!_ ” He darts off the bed looking to leave (why?) but forgets his leg is not fully healed and falls to the floor. “ _Owe!”_

“Lou!” Harry runs to his side. “Are you okay?” Louis looks up at him from his spot on the ground. He landed directly on his wound and he needs his pain meds, immediately.

“Not really.” He clutches onto his leg and rests his head on the rug.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Harry whispers from above him. “Let me help you up.” He wraps his arms around Louis’ torso. “You ready?”

“Y-yes.” He chokes out. He is lifted off the ground and placed back on the mattress. “Fuck it hurts so much.” He puts his head in his hands.

“Lou, do you need anything? What can I do for you?” The man pleads. “I didn’t mean to call you or put you on the spot. You should have said no to me…I was being selfish and had this crazy idea to have you pick me up and I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m sorry.” He is simply staring, watching those lips move, transfixed on those hands, so captivated with those eyes…he doesn’t even care about his leg anymore. “Lou? Please say something?” He shakes his head to clear it.

“Uhm…um…yeah.” He responds.

“Huh? Did you hear a word I said?” Harry runs a hand through his damp hair. _Fuck I want to do that_. “Are you angry?” _Nope, I’m smitten…and I don’t know what to do first?_ “Louis!” He is shaken from his daydream.

“No! No I’m not angry.” He can already feel those arms encompassing him, wrapping him up, exposing him to such tenderness… _I can lay with you all day. Can you kiss me?_

“Thank god.” The man sighs and drops his hands to his sides. _You’re shirtless...holy fuck he is so…hot._ He licks his lips. “I really do not remember much…just that you picked me up. I may have blacked out after that.” _Oh man…you were like an open book last night._

“Are you feeling alright? How is your head?” He reaches a hand out but immediately retracts it. _Idiot. No touch!_

“Don’t worry about me. I deserve the hangover. I’m more concerned with your leg and how you even drove here!” Harry starts to pace. “I am SO stupid! You’re not supposed to even drive yet!”

“Woah there it’s alright.”

“ _No it’s not_. Stop making excuses for my actions.”

“I’m not? I’m telling you it wasn’t that bad. I admit it hurt but I’ll survive.” Louis stands up and leans on his good leg. “If I didn’t want to get you I would have said _no_.” _Bad idea. It still hurts._

“Are you sure? I wasn’t annoying or anything?”

“Nah, you were actually really talkative.” He smiles squashing down the pain once again.

“Ugh…I was? Did I say anything really embarrassing?”

“Well if I were in your shoes I’d think so but I didn’t mind hearing it.” _It made me feel good because I may feel the same way?_ “If that helps at all.”

“Uh…no it does _not_.” Harry puts his head in his hands and sits down. “What did I say?”

“A lot.” Louis smirks and joins him. “Like I said…I don’t mind.” He fiddles with his fingers.

“Alright. As long as you’re not freaked out.”

“Nope. I’m good.” He confirms. _I’m okay. This is okay_. “But I do have to go.”

“Go?” Harry questions. “Why?”

“Well I have to feed my cats and take some pain meds.”

“Right. Well, let me drive you then?”

“Yes. I really shouldn't _operate heavy machinery_.” He admits. “If my car was automatic I’d be alright…oh can you drive manual?”

“I can handle a _stick_ no problem.” _Nice double entendre._

“Good. I can’t wait to lay witness to that.” He whispers. _Was that good? I haven’t flirted in years_.

“Uhm…” Harry licks his lips. “Yes.”

“So let’s go.” Louis says too cheerily. _I need to make him work for it I think._ “Where is your shirt? You know you shouldn’t walk around with your chest out…it may offend someone.” He finds his Vans.

“Or turn them on?” The man walks to his closet and procures a shirt.

“Possibly.” He shrugs and limps to the doorway.

“Let me help you. Hold on.” Harry pulls on a pair of ratty pink converse.

“No gold boots?”

“Not today. Too fancy for sweats and a t-shirt.” He ties the laces and stands. “Ready?”

“I am.” He lifts his arm up. “Alright, you’ll be my temporary crutch.”

“Absolutely.” Harry walks to him and places Louis’ arm across his shoulders. “You good?” _Holy fuck, yes. More than good? More like fabulous._

“Lead the way, officer.”

He leans on Harry, takes advantage to savor this moment, realizes just how _strong_ this man is, how much he wants to touch him and never let go. _I am fucked, I am so fucked and there is no way of recovering from this_.

**Scene Three: Louis’ House, 02:15PM**

Harry can drive stick.

He can drive stick and Louis is so fucking aroused from watching him, he may explode in his pants. It was magical, something so mundane but the way he gripped the gear shifter, the way those fingers circled the handle…he had to look away. If he didn’t distract himself with the LA landscape he’d probably cum embarrassingly in his pants. He could not get the image of Harry gripping _him_ out of his head which also didn't help. _It’s a glorious feeling…but terrifying._

“Hi boys!” Louis announces when he opens the door. The cats come running into the entryway, rub on his legs, and meow in protest. “I know...I know. I'm sorry you must be so hungry.” He coos. He pets their heads and gets to feeding them immediately.

“They have you whipped.” Harry comments as he makes his way further in.

“Possibly. But I don't mind. Better to be whipped by cats then by a human.” It sounds bitter and unfortunately it's the truth.

“You really felt like that?” Harry leans down on the kitchen counter watching his every move. _Stare me down, breathe me in, I don't care._

“I barely know what interests me...barely understand who I am. I think I'd say I was very much whipped.” He looks down at the boys eating their 'breakfast’ and sighs. “I was just a toy, forced to please, and never _say no_. If I questioned Stan's motives? Forget it. I got tied up and-”

“Stop!!” The man yells at the top of his lungs. Louis jumps back and hits the stove. “Just _stop_.”

“Why? Do you not believe me?” He feels his anger at Harry's audacity. To think he would make this up so he can be pitied? He hated the looks, the concerns, the fear. _I lived through it for years._

“I would never take you for a liar.”

“So why _stop_? I was subjected to horrible treatment.”

“How could he do that to you? Tie you up? Seriously? You couldn't have an opinion or interests? How do you live? How can you love someone like that?”

“I don't expect you to understand. It's convoluted and absolutely fucked up.”

“Help me understand then. Why did you remain with Stan? What good did he bring you? And no, that's not sarcasm.”

“I…” He stops. _What good?_ _Was there anything good?_ “Um...I...he-”

“Seriously? After fifteen years you cannot think of one good thing?” Louis reaches for the pain meds as he thinks that fairly difficult question through. _What good...what good-...oh._

“He bought this house for me.” He admits as he takes two pills and chases them with water. “He purchased this home because I wanted to be by the beach and I couldn't afford it on my own.”

“Wait he actually... purchased this house?”

“Well he co-signed with me, yes. But he was the primary...well is the primary.” He chokes. “I can't afford it without doing overtime and even then I'm struggling to make ends meet.” _I’ve never admitted that to anyone._

“Why not move then?”

“I love this home. And not many apartments allow two cats and I will not give them up. I'll do whatever it takes to make it work.”

“Oh...well...I'm sorry.”

“Please do not apologize anymore. You've done nothing wrong, especially where Stan is concerned. You've only been kind to me and I appreciate it.” He bends down and picks up Luke. “They're all I have right now so I have to make sure I'm well and _not injured._ ”

“Better rest then.”

“Yeah better get my ass in gear.” Louis hears the faint sound of a phone buzzing. He instinctively checks his but _nope._ _Seriously though? Thank goodness._

“I have to take this.” Harry says and he hurriedly leaves the room.

He thinks nothing of it, doesn't even care the man decided to take a phone call during their time. _Shut up. There is no such thing as_ our time. _There isn't even an us!_ So he busies himself with making tea and playing with the felines.

“I could never leave you.” He says to George. “I will do what it takes-”

“Could you not _remind_ me every five fucking seconds? I know what my obligations are. I know what we've talked about!” Harry is practically screaming. _Shit he sounds pissed._ “I get it!!” The man looks over at Louis with a sad expression and glassy eyes as if he is on the brink of crying. He quietly excuses himself and heads out the front door.

Louis doesn’t even think before running _..._ well more like limps…to the window to eavesdrop. He does not mean to pry…but after witnessing that little tidbit? How could be not? He finds Harry on the porch throwing his arms about while speaking into the phone, notes his face is flushed, and mannerisms full of hostility. _He is nothing like the man I’ve come to known._

“I get it...the wedding is soon...I just have-... _NO Let me speak._ I'm tired of-... you're impossible. Don't you dare bring anyone into this! This is between you and me.” _What wedding? There's a wedding? Who is getting hitched?_ Louis looks down at Luke.

“What? He's speaking loudly.” He looks out the window again and Harry is still going at it. “I wonder what's going on...”

“I swear if you lay a fucking hand on him...You fucking better not or I’ll know it’s you…You do not need to send your cavalry. _I’ll come back on my own_.” He abruptly hangs up, shoves a hand into his hair and turns around. He was obviously crying, obviously so upset and angered he actually let tears escape from those beautiful eyes. Louis wants to punch the person who made him like this, made him become so irritated…and shit he's coming back!

Louis scrambles back to the kitchen acting like he doesn't know anything and continues making tea even when the door opens and slams shut. He has to remain calm and impassive, avoid any uncomfortable silence…act like everything is _normal._

“There's something I need to do.” The man says abruptly.

“Right now?” He asks thinking he has to leave. He is searching the officer’s face for anything, looks past the blotchiness and bloodshot eyes. _He's expressionless and that's not something I'm used to._

“Um…Yes, because if I don't I'll never know and that'll probably kill me.”

“Kill you!?” He's so confused. “What's going on? You seem flustered.” Harry approaches him, well more like saunters over, and Louis watches his every step, feels panic arise. “Did I miss something?”

“How does your leg feel?” They're practically nose to nose and it is quite the turn of events.

“Uhm…” Louis lost all coherent thoughts and any hope that he could maintain his composure. “It f-feels...um...it aches?”

“How bad is _ache_?”

“Like...I can almost stand on it?” He's losing it fast. _Holy shit what's going on?_   Of course his leg hurts, it's a dull pain that hasn't subsided since the accident and really? “Why?” He practically squeaks out as he stares into those green irises that have since dilated and are practically all black. He can feel the heat, the need, the _desire_ radiating off of the man and it's peaking his own arousal, drawing him in, making him weak. _Guess he isn't leaving._

Harry cups his cheeks, moves in closer until they're practically flush against one another breathing the very air Louis exhales. _He really isn't leaving._

And that's just the beginning.

The man diverts his gaze to Louis’ now bitten lips, tightens his hold on his face, pushes him gently into the cabinet, entices him with his body. He's melting, he's a puddle of liquid on the floor, his mind is mush, legs jelly, and arms like lead. It's surreal, this moment is pretend and only in his imagination. _It's another dream, that's all and soon I'll wake up. I'll wake up the moment he's about to-_

Harry doesn't hesitate a moment longer and leans in, puckers his lips, conjoins their mouths, ignites the flame burning beneath their skin allowing their desire to flourish.

He doesn't know what to think, what to believe, how to _touch._ He's kissing back, of course, but he's at a loss, he isn't sure what the limits are, doesn't know when it's okay to progress or if Harry even wants to move past this. _I'll just keep my hands on the cabinet. He may not want to be touched._

There is this sort of frenzy, an urgency, such desperation in the way Louis is being kissed he isn't quite sure how to decipher it. It feels glorious, feels like something one reads in a romantic novel, or conjures when they sleep. It's bliss, euphoric, beyond arousing...and if he's honest...off-putting. _What’s going through Harry's mind?_ _It’s like he is…rushing? Making up for lost time?_

He is roused back into reality when his stupidly hard cock rubs against the man in front of him. He's ridiculously wanton, so fucking turned on he wants to strip right here, feel that heated skin on his own, to touch and to roam... to _feel_ something more. His fingers are begging him, calling to him to reach out and touch this man laying sweet yet heated kisses on his lips.

And those hands?

Forget it, they're everywhere...on his back, ass, arms chest, neck.. _._ every inch of exposed skin has been touched. It's an all-encompassing feeling, a feeling of want and lust...and such emotion Louis is momentarily paralyzed. _He's ravishing me, preparing me...he wants this too. Right?_

How could Harry feel like this after such a short time though? How can he possess such affection towards him? Is there something more? _Maybe that Florence Nightingale thing was true._

“Please touch me.” Harry begs against his lips. “I want your hands on me.” He opens his eyes.

“W-what?”

“I want your hands on me.”

“Why?” It may sound like the most preposterous question. _Of course_ he wants to touch him but he's amazed the man wants this from him. Without another word, Harry takes Louis’ hands and places them on his back.

“No questions. Just _touch_ me.” He instructs. They continue their barrage of kisses, their mutual fondling and searching, and it's all such a thrill to Louis he can barely contain his movements.

This is so satisfying, touching. He is able to reciprocate properly, enjoy the moment just as much as the person he is sharing it with. He doesn't want to remember a time where he was only allowed to lie there, remain motionless save for his mouth or hips. He _never_ wants to give this up.

Harry is relentless, focused, and (what seems to be) determined to...what exactly? Every swipe of his tongue, every motion of his lips seems to have purpose. _Does he really want to make me feel good?_ The man stops and rests his forehead against Louis’.

“Do you have any idea how badly I've wanted to do that?” The man pants out. His eyes are still closed, continues to recreate that very intense kiss, and Harry wants to talk?!

“H-how bad is bad?” He manages. He feels weightless, so free, so relaxed and content. He could stay in the enclosure Harry has created until the day he dies.

“From the moment I saw you.” _Saw me? In the precinct when I ran into you?_

“Well that's a short time.”

“I'd say five years is an awful long time to pine.” _Five years?!_ Louis opens his eyes and looks up. Harry is staring at him with those green irises, giving him this look he cannot even begin to understand.

“W-what are you talking about?” Harry reluctantly let's him go and leans on the counter behind him. “I’m so confused.” _Pine? You were pining over me!?_

“I saw you five years ago at the precinct on my first day and I was pretty much screwed since then.” The man smiles at the memory. “There you were giving us instructions, being this tough guy, speaking with an authoritative tone, and it was just the hottest thing I've ever seen.” Louis is gaping at the admission. “And the uniform? It was impossible to concentrate.” Harry touches his lips. “I wanted to talk to you, get to know you, learn your interests, touch your ass.”

“My ass?”

“Oh yeah you have a nice bum actually. I sneak glances whenever you're not looking.” The man winks.

“Good to know. I'll make it a point to wear baggier pants when I'm with you.” He lowers his head and crosses his arms. “What happened?”

“What do you mean what happened? _Nothing happened._ You were already in a committed relationship, taken, off the market, out of reach-”

“Okay I get it.” _I probably would have left-...who am I kidding? I would have cowered in my boots if Harry made an attempt to be with me_.

“You really did not remember me then. That sucks.”

“I'm sorry. I've met so many recruits in my career it's tough to remember them all. And plus you didn't even speak to me! I'm sure I would remember a face like yours. I mean you're hard to miss.” He feels himself blush so he attempts to hide his face.

“I guess I am pretty handsome.” Harry admits.

“Oh I'd say more than handsome.”

“How would you describe me then?” The man is on him again, his hands resting firmly on Louis’ lower _lower_ back.

“Uh…” He looks up. He has since removed his sneakers and now the height difference is quite substantial. “Tall.”

“Ha! That's it?” Those hands are...moving south.

“If I start I'll never stop. Embarrassingly enough. So I'll spare you.”

“But what if I don't want to be spared? What if your opinion of me matters? Matters more than you'll know?”

“It does? But why?”

“Lou, can I kiss you again?”

“Well you didn't ask the last time so why seek my permission now?” _The anticipation makes me nervous._

“I wanted to surprise you.” The man shrugs.

“You're stalling now.”

“I am. I just got cold feet.” _Screw this._

He gathers his strength, moves towards Harry and those stupidly pink (and now plump) lips. They were so soft, tender, skilled...and he has to taste them again. He interlocks their mouths, uses his hands to speak, leans his body into the man in front of him. _Fuck he is powerful._

The hands on his ass are working him through his sweats, the lips on his are bringing forth such affection Louis cannot keep it together. He tentatively puts his hands on the back of Harry's neck and pulls down. _I want you closer...no I need you to be closer._

They continue like this...simply kissing and getting to know one another. Louis’ mouth actually hurts from over-use but he doesn't care. He cannot stop. He wants to savor it because who knows when this will happen again. _Maybe this was a fluke. Maybe Harry just wants to get off._

He is suddenly in the air, his feet no longer planted to the ground but wrapping securely around Harry’s slender torso. He was caught off guard, surprised at the gentleness, still in shock such care even exists. _Certainly beats being flung over a shoulder_. He loosens his grip on Harry's neck and breaks away.

“W-where are we going?”

“How is your leg?” Harry asks ignoring him.

“It's...okay?”

“Are you sure?” The man probes.

“Yeah.” He nods. _I think so? It all depends really._

They're in the bedroom and approaching the mattress, approaching the very object that caused Louis endless amounts of pain and humiliation, caused him to cower at the thought of intimacy and remember _those_ times. He can sleep in it just fine...but to get _fucked_ in that very spot? That is a whole other story and he refuses to relive it, promises himself to _say no_ when necessary. _I do not have to please him…I can protect myself._

Harry tightens his hold and looks directly into Louis’ eyes. His pupils are blown, his green irises practically gone once again, that familiar look that he's become to _fear_. It's displayed in front of him, it's all there…and soon there will be ultimate suffering...another night dealing with a stinging ache in his back and a mind stuffed to the brim with self-pity.

He is gently laid down on the bed and is soon covered in Harry's warmth as he runs his mouth along Louis’ jaw, neck, and parts of his exposed collar. _No pain…no pain yet._

He closes his eyes and relaxes into the mattress allowing Harry to shower him with feather like touches and wet kisses. He tries his best to not moan...to remember what he's been _trained_ to do... _I cannot make a sound or I'll be gagged again._ He instinctively puts his hands above his head, keeps his fingers interlocked, takes deep calming breaths, reassures himself that he is okay.

The man is flush against him, rubbing himself on Louis, poking him with his erect cock. He feels it all, feels the pull off Harry's lips on his skin, feels those long fingertips running the length of his torso and arms. He cannot help but breathe heavy at the sensations, thrust his hips up, squeeze his hands into tight fists. _This is incredible... holy shit. Don't moan don't-_

He releases a whimper, a noise he was not aware he possessed, a sound he did _not_ mean to produce. It was high pitched, whiney, and incredibly _pathetic._ He clamps his mouth shut in shame, awaits the abuse, prepares his mind for the imminent punishment, scrunches his eyes closed. _It'll be quick. It'll be alright._

He feels hands on his fists, feels his fingers being pulled out of his deathgrip. He opens his eyes and Harry is there obstructing his vision, emanating a sense of ease into his being. His face is _not_ hostile, or filled with anger. It’s angelic, soft, and filled with such adoration he wants to moan again from witnessing it. Harry dips his head and kisses him gently on the lips. _Am I allowed to do that?_

“Relax. You're so tense.” Harry whispers into his ear. “This wasn't what I had in mind _anyway_.” Louis stares up at him in disbelief.

“W-wait, we're not-” _Fucking?_ He's in the mood, who wouldn't be? _I guess I am still afraid I suppose._

“Here.” Harry sits up, pulls Louis up with him and flips them over. He's on top, straddling this guy's hips, being given the opportunity to take the lead and be in control.

“I um…” He's looking down at Harry. “You want-”

“Put your mouth on me.” _Alright? “_ I want those lips all over.”

He's overwhelmed, completely out of his league, so beguiled with the body in front of him, he does not even know where to begin! The man is massive, so long, so _big_ it's hard to choose a starting point.

And the poking is incessant against his ass.

“Lou-eeee. Please?” Harry begs with a pouty face.

“B-but…” _I don't know what to do first!_ He takes a deep breath and dips his head. _Well I'll just um…_ His lips gently touch Harry's throat, grazes his Adam's apple, runs his tongue along the underside of the man's chin, sucks on the skin of his collarbone. He makes the man gasp, incites a couple of moans, makes him buck his hips up in response. He is certain he is succeeding, giving pleasure to Harry…making him feel _good_.

And he's so fucked.

The scent consuming him is intoxicating, absolutely addicting, the taste otherworldly and so invigorating to Louis’ senses he wants to bottle it up and keep it with him forever... _Who am I kidding? I want to lie here all day every day in the warmth._ He never felt such a connection before, never thought it would be possible to feel again, never thought this man would even consider him let alone want to sleep with him.

At that thought, he sucks rather harshly on Harry's neck having this desire to mark the skin and stake his claim, let _everyone know_ where Louis was, what he did…how enamored he has become. He cannot get enough of the salty taste of the man’s neck as he works it with his mouth remembering when-

He stops immediately.

It sounds wrong…it’s like he is treating this man like an _object_ , using his excitement to control his actions. He resurrects a memory from a time he too felt like a doll, something that had no feeling or mind of its own, when he was left with bruises as a punishment… _I was a plaything. I was a piece of ass. An easy fuck. He is not that…he is so much more. So special._ He refuses to be an impassive bastard.

He feels Harry running his hands down is spine, feels the delicate touch through the cotton of his shirt. _And I wanted to leave blemishes on his skin?_

He kisses down Harry's throat, sneaks his hand underneath the man’s shirt, savors in the softness and curves, envisions a future where he is able to relive this moment again. It gives him motivation, strength, and the confidence to pull the cotton up and over. 

Instantly, his mouth is watering.

He is gawking.

He is taking in this person lying in front of him.

_He is delicious._

Before he can continue, Harry removes his shirt, leaving them both bare on top, one step closer. _I want to feel you...with no obstructions. I want your skin on mine._ He squeezes his legs into Harry's hips, assures the man he is so ready, _so excited,_ and he cannot _stop!_

He leans forward but Harry wiggles underneath him.

“What's wrong?” Louis asks.

“Pants. Off. Now. Please.” 

“O-okay.”

He moves down his legs, takes hold of the waistband and tugs down the sweatpants revealing the erect cock he felt against his ass. _No boxers. The guy was going commando. And fuck I want him._

“Check the pocket before you throw them.” Louis makes a face. “Trust me.” _I do trust you. I trust you so much I want you to fuck me._ He pulls the pants free and feels the package in the pocket. _Of course. I could be tainted. Fuckin Stanley_. He shakes his head and clears his thoughts. Now is not the time to think. He needs to focus, pleasure the man in front of him, give him his all. _So the man wants to use a condom. It's the norm nowadays right?_

He isn't offended. There is no need to be. It's the smart thing to do. Louis may have only been with one person...but Stan may have...been with others...he shakes his head once again. _NO._ _Do not ruin this moment._ He reaches towards the nightstand, takes out the peach lube and drops it on the bed.

“ _Peach_?” Harry whines. “Ew.”

“Yup, deal with it.” He winks. “Now shush.” He quickly removes his own pants and moves to sit between the legs that are attached to this beautiful being. _Holy fuck he is naked, in my bed, and this is really about to happen._

“Um...yes it is.” Louis flinches.

“What?”

“You spoke aloud, silly.” Harry leans up and touches his cheeks. “Please, I need you.” _I need you more I think._  

“Of course.” He gently pushes the man down.

He pauses before he continues, mulls over his plan of action and realizes he is not in a good position so he moves and sits directly on Harry's tummy. He receives a quizzical look at the gesture and immediately wonders what that particular gaze could mean but he doesn’t have time. _Just do it!!_

He takes the bottle, picks up Harry's hand (which, again another confused look), and squeezes the cool liquid on the man's fingers. _What?_ It's like he's never done this before. He shimmies further up the long torso, pitches forward and positions himself. He places two digits at his entrance, closes his eyes and simply pushes them in simultaneously. He gasps at the intrusion, the pressure, and that inevitable sting he’s come to _despise_. It’s like Stan is here again, shoving his entire fist up his ass as if it’s some game, testing Louis’ limits, making a _man out of him_ , subjecting him to torture. And he fucking hates it! This will forever be ruined for him. An act that is meant to be one of pleasure leaves him angered and so broken inside, so hurt, so _muddled_... _I am a mess._

Louis has these emotions roiling under his skin, burning him from the inside out, making him regret doing this all the while he has these two fingers pleasuring him, moving with such precision he nearly forgets the pain. He has to succeed, must face his fears and understand that not every man he will encounter will be as stubborn and spiteful as Stan. _There is hope and I have to find it._

Harry places his free hand on his hips and squeezes as he takes over.

Those digits are working him, opening him, preparing him. He doesn't think of the past, forgets the poor excuse of a partner he spent half of his life with, relishes the feel of this man underneath him, allows Harry to control the movements, puts all of his faith and trust into him. And he feels incredible.

Another finger is added stirring him from his reverie, another finger that is usually followed by an ache or something quite uncomfortable however, not now. This is different, so far from what he is used to he practically wants to cry.

He's openly panting, taking it, enjoying himself, allowing his arousal to flood his veins. _Fuck fuck fuck._ He listens for Harry, listens for any sign, hopes this is _doing it_ for him. He cannot open his eyes in fear of what he'll find. _What if he hates it? What if my butt isn't what he expected? What if_ I'm _not what he wanted!?_

He remains impossibly still at this sudden irrational fear. It's stupid really. Harry is here, touching him, breathing him in, seeing him for what he is and now he thinks this? _Pining. He was pining for me_ …

Suddenly the pressure is gone, the fingers are no longer pleasuring him, the excitement he was finally exposed to at a stand-still. What happened?

He feels the hand on his torso give him a light squeeze, give him a sense of reassurance. He is gently pushed backwards and into position. He opens his eyes and finds Harry there, eyes still blown, hair a complete mess, forehead covered in a sheen of sweat. _Fuck you're hot_.

Louis takes hold of the foil packet, opens it with shaking hands, and makes work of the latex. His excitement is guiding him, making this entire moment possible because honestly, he would have ran away by now. _No pain. There's no pain. Don't worry._ Harry's hands are on him, massaging him, rubbing circles on his tummy, enticing him. It's such a tender touch he nearly pours the entire bottle of lube onto his fingers. He smirks at that.

“Watch it.” Harry says.

“Your hands do something to me.”

“Touch me.” The man demands. Louis rubs the lube onto the awaiting, impossibly hard cock in front of him. “F-fuck. Be careful. I may just cum right here.” He freezes his motions.

“Seriously?”

“Lou, I've been falling apart the moment I started touching you.” Harry runs a finger across his torso and up his chest. “I cannot wait any longer.”

With the invitation, Louis raises himself up with his legs, places his hands on Harry's stomach and slowly lowers himself down onto the awaiting shaft.

At first it's like every other time, average, something thrilling but not out of the ordinary...the pressure, the stretching, the sting. But there's something else, something underlying he cannot decipher. He feels the burst of pleasure in his stomach, is flooded with all sorts of emotions he was certain he could never feel towards another human being. He moans at the intrusion, let's it all out, finally allows himself to open up, and truly relax.

“H-holy fuck.” His voice doesn't even sound like his own. He tilts his head back, shuts his eyes, listens to the man below him breathe and squirm in his place on the bed.

Harry's hands are on his torso, keeping him still, clearly savoring the feeling as much as Louis is.

“Don't... Don't move yet. It feels too good...too...g-good.” Hearing Harry stutter, hearing him struggle to form a coherent sentence proves he is feeling this, is truly affected by Louis’ very touch. _Guess he likes my ass._ “Fuck I'm afraid to move.” He _accidentally_ clenches his lower extremities enjoying the sensation.

Louis starts to move, disregards the man's protests, and makes gentle circles with his hips. He needs to feel it, experience this for the first time, understand what the hype is. _This is what I was missing?_

Harry moves his hands, places them firmly on Louis’ shoulders, pushes down as he thrusts up, penetrates even deeper, makes him go numb from the wave of euphoria consuming him. He practically yells out, nearly cums untouched, commits this feeling to memory. He feels goosebumps arise on his skin, relishes in the butterflies in his stomach. And he needs more.

He starts to move with more purpose, lifts himself up and drops back down onto the cock penetrating him. He has to feel it, feel more, feel it everywhere. He is so lost in his head, so ready for Harry to touch him, so ready to explode onto the man's chest.

“You're gorgeous. Fuck, you're incredible. Don't stop.” He faintly hears over his breathing. He's working Harry, working his shaft with everything he can.

He looks down, sees the lust in Harry's eyes, sees a flash of another emotion he is sure was borderline longing with a hint of sadness. _Why though?_ He cannot bother with that now... _Soon Harry. We'll work it out._

The man lifts his legs and bends his knees, tilts Louis forward and takes hold of his shoulders once again. He is being pounded into and crying out, loving every second of it. It's unreal...this is unreal. He can openly express how he feels and not fear being hit or gagged.

He has this tingling feeling in his stomach, a feeling that is slowly overwhelming his senses, taking precedence. _Touch._.. _touch_... _touch_. Harry is breathing heavy underneath him, exerting himself, looking incredibly exhausted but sated simultaneously.

Louis reaches between their sweated bodies, finds his cock that up until this point has been neglected, and starts to stroke himself in time with Harry's powerful hips. The man is strong, incredibly precise and hitting every right place at just the right angle. _You fit me so perfectly. How is that possible?_

He's going to cum, he is going to explode all over their torsos, not give a shit, and release his anxiety.

“Yes, almost...don't stop.” He says as he jerks himself. “Harry.” He looks down at the man.

“S-say my name again.” The man chokes out.

“Harry, _fuck me_.” Louis announces. “Fuck me so hard…I want to feel you all night.” _But where did that come from!?_ “...feel you tomorrow.” He continues. “Feel you in my sleep and under my skin.” He is so close.

“L-lou.” The man whimpers as he thrusts into him and grazes his prostate.

“F-fuck!” He yells out and proceeds to cum on their tummies, allowing the stickiness to cover his fist. He doesn’t care, he feels incredible. “Oh shit.” He whispers as he collapses onto Harry's sweated chest and into the wetness. He can't get enough of the sounds, the touches, the thrusting. _Your cock is perfect_.

Harry releases a high pitched moan, holds Louis close to him as he climaxes, relaxes his legs, but never his arms. They're protecting Louis, keeping him impossibly close in an embrace filled with such tenderness and affection.

Louis remains still on that chest, listens to Harry's heartbeat, prays they get to do that again, thanks this person to the moon and back for showing him what being _intimate_ is...for showing him what true lust feels like, proves there is a light at the end of the tunnel…

 _Harry you are mine_.

And that little fact doesn't even concern him.

**Scene Four: Louis’ Bedroom, ????**

_They’re on the floor in the living room._

_Louis is lying on his tummy with tears streaming down his face, hands tied above is head, and mouth gagged. He moaned aloud, made his boyfriend angry, has not learned his lesson and now he is here on the rug getting the shit fucked out of him._

_“I told you to not make any noise…but did you listen? No! You_ never _do! You fuckin whimpered like a little bitch.” Stan is slamming into him with such force he cannot think or feel anything, is certain he is going to have permanent damage somewhere on his body as an ugly reminder of his insubordination. He is already fucked up mentally…no way he can salvage that. He sobs into the gag at that thought, at the truth, at the fact that he can never escape. “I can still fucking hear you.” It’s relentless, the pain is only growing, his back screaming in protest, his mind reeling. “Stop your pussy ass crying!”_

_Stan keeps going, drives himself in deeper not caring about the body under him, disregarding the human being he is blatantly causing harm to._

_“I fuckin hate you.” The man starts. “…you’re disgusting…so worthless…you make me SICK!”_

_His wrists are burning from the rope._

_His cheeks are rubbing against the gag that is no doubt leaving red blemishes on his face._

_His weakened body is taking the brunt of this man’s rage._

_His heart is slowly breaking in his chest._

_He did this…he caused the anger. Now he has to live with it. He’ll walk into work tomorrow looking like he was…_ abused…I am being abused. _And he’ll just have to deal._

_Stan orgasms into him, gives one last resounding thrust, let’s him know who is in control and pulls out with a grunt. The man wraps his arms around Louis, lifts him up onto his shoulder like a sack, and carries him out of the room. He is limp in his arms, too afraid to move, too afraid to think, so spent and in such bad form he wonders if he is still alive._

_Once they reach the bed, Stan drops him down onto the mattress, removes the gag and rope, and stares patronizingly down at him. He wants to look away, wants to hide under the covers, disappear, escape that gaze that holds little to no feeling. The man doesn’t care, his boyfriend doesn’t care and he’s a mess._

_“It’s your fault.” Stan blurts out as he gets dressed._ “ _When will you fucking learn, huh? When will you know your place? Don’t you understand you are_ nothing _and so fucking worthless?! You’re a disgusting human being. I hate you…I never loved you-”_

Louis sits up, rubs at his face, spreads the tears on his cheeks, takes in large gulps of air, calms his heart. _Holy shit…holy SHIT!_ He practically yells into his palms.

“Lou! Are you okay?” He hears the voice next to him. “Are you crying? What happened?” Harry’s arms are around him, pulling him close, giving him affection.

“B-bad dream? Very bad dream.” Louis stutters into the man’s chest.

“What do you need from me?” Harry whispers into his ear. “How can I help?

“Hold me.” He rushes out. “Hold me until I fall asleep.”

“Yes. Yes, I will. Anything for you.”

 _Anything?_                           

 


	6. Reminder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All clear!!

**Scene One: The Meeting**

Louis was in his usual place.

He was in the auditorium, sitting stage right with his feet dangling over the edge while casually eating lunch and reading a novel entitled _It._ The book is excellent, creepy as hell, but still an excellent horror story and he could not put it down. Any chance he had he would read and escape into the confines of its pages. He was so fixated that he even snuck in a chapter or two during class which nearly got him a detention. But it was worth it.

He quickly peers down at his watch to note the time and confirms he has approximately twenty minutes before sixth period. _Good. At least I can finish this chapter._

This was his routine (albeit a quiet one), his sanctuary, a place where he was able to think, _read_ , study, or perform any other task he found impossible to do at home. With four siblings and a junior sized bedroom, personal space was nonexistent.

The moment he went home he was bombarded, forced to help his mother with the children, placed on _babysitting_ duty for the remainder of the evening until they went to sleep. It was exhausting and not a task any fourteen year old wanted to do. He was overtired, sleep deprived, and beyond drained. Most days he was okay, most days he could hide his slight depression, _most days_ he could keep that smile plastered on his face to appease the outside world and more so his mother.

However it was those _other days_ that nothing seemed possible. He was a mess, falling asleep at his desk, lashing out at his siblings, crumbling before his mother’s eyes and there was nothing that could be done to save him. He had no outlet, no personal space, _no freedom_. He had school and the apartment and nothing more.

So he came to this very spot, avoided the other students and their teenage banter, and savored in the quiet. Some thought he was being anti-social or was simply that _weird_ kid no one bothered with because he was just that, _weird_. But to him, it was welcomed. He had his temporary escape and wouldn’t expect anyone to understand. _It’s okay. The less they know the better._

The entrance to the auditorium abruptly swings open startling him from his book. No one ever comes in here, in fact it’s off limits. Louis only manages it since he is close with the drama teacher and she (for whatever reason) took a liking to him. _Who is this person?_ He eyes them wearily from his place on the stage. His belongings are scattered about so to make an easy exit is practically impossible if it’s a teacher.

It wasn’t a teacher though.

It was a boy. A boy with brown shaggy hair, baggy t-shirt, and fitted jeans. Louis does not recall ever seeing him around school but then again it’s hard to see his face clearly. He adjusts his glasses on his nose and squints harder to get a better look.

The boy throws his backpack and sits down in the back row. He is certain he hears him crying, hears the distress in his choked sobs. _What do I do?!_ He can handle a five year old tearing up over a broken toy but a person close to his age? _Maybe I’ll just sit very still…_

“I hate you.” He hears and looks around him ensuring no one is there. “I wish you would _die_.” Louis practically topples over. Who wishes death upon anyone? “I r-really _really_ hate you.” The boy yells. It’s apparent he is upset about _something_ and hates _someone_. But Louis really does not want to pry so he quietly gathers his backpack, uneaten lunch, and is about to stand when- “Who are you?” He remains frozen in place. _Damn it!_ He feels his glasses slowly inch off his nose. “Yeah you, kid with the weird comb over.” _I just really need to leave_. If his hands weren’t full, he’d adjust the frames. “Hellooooo?” The boy stands up and walks towards him. _Oh no, oh no!_ He moves quickly to leave, to avoid a conversation he is in no mood to have when his glasses slip off his face, fall on the stage and bounce to the floor below.

“No!” He yelps. He drops everything he was holding and leans over the edge.

“I got it.” The kid jogs over and retrieves the unscathed frames. “They seem to be okay.”

“Good, they’re my only pair.” The boy hands them over and he immediately places them back on. “Thank you.” He sees the boy now, sees his features and the blotchiness, the bloodshot eyes, the underlying charm. _Oh my_. He stares at the kid unable to believe he has never noticed him before, never stopped to admire his face. _He is really cute_.

“Sorry for my mini-outburst. I thought I was the only person in here.”

“N-no. It’s fine.” He squeaks out. _I am such a loser_.

“I’m Stanley. But everyone calls me Stan, unless you’re my mother.” The boy smirks and extends his hand.

“I’m Louis. Most call me…Louis.” He shrugs at the admission. He takes the kid’s hand in his to be polite and is regretting it immediately. He cannot pull away or stop staring. _You know... nothing too awkward._

“That’s _boring_.”

“Whatever.” He reluctantly drops his hand. “Are you okay?” He pries, going against his better judgement.

“I’ll be alright.” Stan waves it off. “Do you sit here every day?”

“I um…” _Crap! I can’t get the teacher in trouble._ He starts to sweat and diverts his gaze. “Uh…well you see-”

“You’re in here every day, just admit it.” The boy rushes out. “Who cares?”

“I can’t get anyone in trouble. It’s off-limits during school hours.”

“Dude, get over it.” Stan hops up on stage and sits down. “We still have a few minutes.” The boy looks at his discarded belongings. “You’re reading _It_?!” Louis sits down next to him.

“Y-yes.” He clears his throat. “I am. It’s very good…creepy but I like it.”

“What else do you read?”

“Anything?” He is watching the boy’s lips. _They’re pretty._

“That’s lame. What’s your favorite genre?”

“Horror, Sci-fi. Weird stuff I guess.” He clenches his fingers together in a tight fist.

“Oh thank god. I thought you were going to say romance or something.” The kid starts to cackle. “Alright, so Louis you like to read weird shit. What else do you do?”

“Huh?” When did the discussion become a Q and A? _Why am I shaking?_ He runs a hand through his fringe on impulse or maybe just as a nervous habit that he _just_ picked up.

“What. Else. Do. You. Do.” Stan enunciates each word. “Not such a hard question.” _That was mean_.

“What if I don’t want to share just yet? I only met you. What if you’re some serial killer luring kids to their deaths?”

“HA! If I were a serial killer, I think you’d be dead already.”

“Or gagged and bound, being held against my will.” He adds.

“Yeah!” The boy agrees. “Or hanging upside down by your toenails!”

“That’s just disgusting.” He smiles.

“But nah, I wouldn’t do that.”

“Good.” He feels himself blush. _Cute boy talking to me…oh my god._ But the bell rings.

“Alright well, _Lewis_. Do you like that? I had to give you some sort of nickname.” Stan says. His heart may have burst out of his chest. “I will see you soon...?”

“Tomorrow?” He questions. The boy widens his eyes. “Uh…never mind you know…ugh sorry.”

“I will see you tomorrow.” Stan confirms.

“O-okay!”

 

**Scene Two: Cannot Touch**

“So there’s this thing Saturday night.” The boy says one day as they eat lunch.

This is what it has been: Louis and Stan meeting on the stage, eating lunch together, talking about anything and everything, and just being teens. He doesn’t really mind actually. When he first asked the boy to sit with him, he went home that afternoon and wanted to kick himself. He needed that forty five minutes to recoup, to read, to study…to…do anything except interact with people.

But when Stan showed up the next day, he was…content. He liked the kid and wanted to get to know him…and he hates to admit he woke up with a boner…because of him.

“Where?” He questions as he takes a bite of his sandwich.

“On the boardwalk.”

“What thing is it?” He continues to ask wanting details.

“If you let me speak I can finish my sentence.” Stan is curt. Stan is _always_ curt. But he can also be a little nasty at times too. _And that was a little uncalled for_.

“Sorry.” He pushes his glasses up.

“So as I was saying before I was _rudely_ interrupted.” Louis rolls his eyes. “There is this _thing_ happening on the boardwalk Saturday and I want to go.”

“Oh well that’s cool. Hope you have fun.” He concludes.

“Lewis, you’re oblivious.”

“What?” He puts his sandwich down. “How am I oblivious?”

“I want to go _with_ someone too.”

“Okay…? So why not ask them?” _What is this kid’s deal?_

“Lewis!”

“WHAT! Stop saying my name.” He wants to throw his half eaten peanut butter sandwich at the kids cute face.

“Lewis…Lewis…Lewis!” Stan is mocking him, making him feel so small and stupid.

“You’re so annoying!” He starts to pack up his lunch.

“What are you doing?”

“ _Leaving_.”

“Why? I thought we had fifteen minutes left.”

“You’re being a jerk and I do not appreciate it. You’re telling me these things about going to the boardwalk for _something_ and you want to bring _someone_ and I don’t understand!”

“Grrrr! I want you to come with me.” The boy glares at him. Louis freezes, looks at him, and wills his brain to properly retain and process that bit of information.

“You…what?”

“Lewis, come with me to the boardwalk Saturday.” Stan says again. _He didn’t even ask. He just assumes I want to go._ But he wants to! He wants to so badly it hurts.

“Okay.” He agrees.

“Good. We can meet at the Cyclone.”

“Yes. I can meet you. What time?”

“How does 7pm sound?” Louis simply nods with a smile.

But is it a date?

A few days later, he is staring into his closet, sifting through his clothes, trying to find the perfect outfit.

“What are you doing?” His sister says from his doorway.

“N-nothing.” He blushes as he eyes a simple band t-shirt.

“You’ve been acting differently. Are you wearing cologne?!” Her voice is grating. “Is Louis going on a _date_?!”

“Shut up, Lottie!” He yells.

“Maaaa!!!” She runs down the hall. “Ma, Louis is going on a date!” He runs to his door, slams it closed, and puts a chair in front of it. He doesn’t want to talk about it, doesn’t want to get his hopes up, and certainly doesn’t want his _mother_ thinking he is going on a date because that’s just weird. _It’s not even a date!!!_ _But damn it, I want it to be_.

Within the hour, he is out of the confines of his apartment building and heading towards the beach to meet with _Stan_. He shoves a piece of gum in his mouth, checks his outfit for the hundredth time, eyes his reflection in the window of a storefront. He looks okay…he’ll be okay. He is about to push his glasses up his nose when realizes he…wore contacts. _Great I am trying too hard and clearly an idiot._

He rounds the corner and sees the roller coaster in front of him. His nerves are skyrocketing, his tummy is knotting in fear, his hands are profusely sweating. _Now I can’t shake his hand_. Is that what he’ll do when he sees him though? Shake his hand? Wave awkwardly? Smile? _Ugh!!!_

When Louis sees Stan his heart begins to race in his chest. _Holy shit…it’s him and he looks incredible._

“Look who decides to _finally_ show up.” Stan says. He looks down at his watch and it just turned seven.

“I’m right on time actually.” He corrects. “Maybe you were early.”

“Maybe early is _on time_ in my book?” Louis is not appreciating the hostility, the _attitude_ he is being subjected to when he didn’t do a damn thing.

“What’s wrong?” He asks.

“ _Nothing._ Let’s just go.” Stan turns and walks away. _I want to go home_. But no, he cannot. If Stan is hurting, he can’t leave him. He has to be there for him, help him.

“Sure.”

They walk past the rides, past the hordes of screaming children and adults, and head straight to the boardwalk. They find the closest ramp and are soon on the beach padding through the sand.

It’s awkward. They’re not speaking and Stan is walking at a quicker pace than Louis as if he cannot stand the _sight_ of him. He feels terrible, feels like this was a mistake and he just really wants to leave. But the boy stops at the edge of the ocean and abruptly turns around. It’s a little dark and difficult to read Stan’s expressions, to gauge his mood, to see that _not so friendly_ side of him.

“Did I do something?” He questions as he tentatively approaches the kid. “You’ve been in a funk since we-”

“I hate questions.” Stan approaches him with purpose.

“Alright. How do I ask if everything is okay then?”

“You just asked another question.”

“What the _hell_ is wrong with you?!” Louis swipes at his eyes. “If you’re going to continue acting like a shithead I’m going _home_. And don’t bother coming to the auditorium anymore.”

“I’ll tell the principal you eat in there!” Stan threatens.

“You’ll get me in trouble!” He throws his hands in the air. “Why would you want to do that?!”

“If I can’t sit there you can’t _either.”_ The boy folds his arms across his chest.

“Good _bye_!” He shakes his head and turns around to head back towards the boardwalk and civilization. He feels the tears and the sadness consume him as he walks away. He doesn’t need this…he doesn’t deserve that attitude!

“Wait!!” He hears. “Wait please!” He feels the boy’s hand on his shoulder, feels those fingers tighten their grip and practically pierces his skin. “I’m sorry.” He tries to hide is face but Stan prevents him from doing so. “Are you crying?”

“Shut up!” He yells.

“Why are you crying?”

“Because you upset me and you’re so mean!” He pushes the boy away.

“I’m sorry! I said I’m sorry. I just had…Something happened and I was upset.” Stan’s hand is still on his shoulder, still gripping him.

“Why not tell me? Or text me? Maybe you should have stayed home?”

“I wanted to _escape_ home. I wanted to come here tonight anyway.”

“You did?”

“ _Yes_ , I did.” The fingers tighten on his shoulder.

“Me too.” He nods his head and swipes at his eyes.

“Can we sit down?”

“In the sand?”

“Yeah afraid to get dirty?”

“I just…no I’m not.” Louis plops down in the sand and mechanically touches his shoulder. _He touched me_. Stan sits practically on top of him. _What?_

“Lewis, my father is…here look.” The boy reveals the underside of his arm revealing faint bruising littering the skin. Louis’ eyes widen.

“Stanley!” He gently takes hold of the outstretched arm. “For how long? Why? Is it-”

“Everywhere?” He takes his arm back and lifts his shirt revealing more bruising and what looks to be a hand print across his rib cage. “This happened earlier actually.” Louis reaches out unable to believe his eyes.

“Why though?”

“My father hits the bottle. Takes his anger out on me.” He shrugs and lowers his shirt. “That’s why I was…crying that one day. That day I found you.”

“Found me?’ He chokes out. Stan looks directly into his face.

“It was a special day for me.”

“Why?” He’s so nervous. He feels his body shaking and no, it’s not the slight breeze creeping up his shirt.

“I’ve met the person who can save me from myself.”

“W-what? I’m…no that’s not true.” Louis breaks away unable to look at the boy any more. “I’m just…I’m fourteen. I…can’t have this effect on _anyone!_ ”

“Lewis, you’re so refreshing.”

“Why are we here? Why did you bring me here?” He touches his chest to calm his nerves.

“I wanted to take you someplace nice and since we don’t have any money, I had to think of something quick…and free.” Stan smiles.

“Someplace… _nice?_ ”

“Mmmhmm.” Stan places his arm around Louis’ shoulders and tugs him close, bringing their faces mere inches apart.

“To do what?” He sucks in his bottom lip as he stares into the boy’s eyes.

“I really hate questions.” Stan closes the distance between them and lays a gentle kiss on Louis’ mouth. _Okay…wow okay…um…what do I do?!_ He feels the boy move away but he wants this…he doesn’t want to stop so he encircles his arms around Stan’s waist and smashes their mouths together. He hasn’t a clue what he’s doing. He’s never _made out_ before. He barely has the time to jerk off let alone bring someone home and _kiss_ for hours. But it’s not too bad…he’s-

Stanley pushes him away suddenly leaving him stunned. _Did I go too far? Was that only meant to be a peck on the lips? A thank you?  A friendly gesture?_ He is at such a loss.

“Don’t…do not touch me.” He moves away from him, tries not to lick his lips that are no doubt covered in the boy’s taste, and hides his red face. “The bruising hurts. It always bothers me and your hands make it worse.”

“Okay.” He wipes at his nose. _I can’t touch…wait what?_

“I can touch you though.” And so Stan does without permission and without any hesitation. _I don't mind._

A little while later, Louis arrives home with swollen lips, a ridiculous erection, a hickey, and a boyfriend.

“YES!!” He whispers as he slams his door shut. 

 

**Scene Three: Pressure**

“I love you.” Louis blurts out.

They’re in his room lying on his twin bed watching an episode of House Hunters on HGTV. _Stan’s idea_. He hates that he said it like this. He wanted it to be more intimate, more romantic. But they’re sixteen, how in the hell can he be anything close to a romantic? _I can barely afford a candle._

“You don’t think it’s a little too soon to be saying that?” Stan’s eyes are transfixed on the television. “Oh! Why would you pick that house?! It barely has any curb appeal!” Louis rolls his eyes.

 “ _No_ , Stan.” He pokes his arm. “Look at me.”

“After this one part.” The boy slaps his hand away.

“God you’re the worst.” He huffs and begins to stand up but Stan pins him down underneath his large arm. _The kid enjoys working out apparently._

“Okay I’m listening now.”

“ _Gee,_ good to know.” He looks at Stan then. “I love you, Stanley.” He says again, this time with a little more feeling, less hesitancy, more fervor.

“Yes and I said _isn’t it too soon to be saying that_.” He feels his heart sink.

“It’s…just how I feel.” 

“It’s fine. I kinda love you too…I think.”

“How do you _think_ you love me?”

“Well, I’d _love_ to do more with you. So isn’t that considered the same thing?”

“…what’s more?” Louis eyes him. _Sure I went down on him more times than I can count…but what is this guy’s deal?_

“No it’s fine. I take it back.” He tries to move that beefy arm off of him. “We _are_ too young. I’m sorry for mentioning it.”

“No you’re not. You love me and I think that’s great.” Stan moves his entire body on top of him. “It’s time I think.” The boy looks lost in thought.

“You’re so cryptic. And you hate when I ask questions.”

“Good, I can show you what I want.” Stan reaches for the waistband of his jeans and works on the button and zipper.

“No I need a play by play. What are you doing?”

“No-no! You’re going to watch.” Stan practically rips his jeans and boxer-briefs off. “Well, look at you all turned on and junk.” Louis turns beat read.

“Whatever.” He looks away. “Get on with it then.” He gestures towards his erection. _Just suck me off and leave me alone_.

“YES!” He goes to pull down his sweatpants.

“What are you doing?” He begins to squirm underneath his boyfriend, starts to mentally freak out.

“Lewis, you admitted your love for me. Shouldn’t people who are in love…do it?”

“Do _it?_ What are we five?”

“I don’t think five year olds _do it._ That’s actually really gross.”

“That’s not what I mean! Seriously? _Do it?_ Stanley, no. I am not having _sex_ with you.”

“Why! Everyone else is!” The boy whines.

“Peer pressure, Stan. That’s why!” Louis really tries to move Stan off of him. “I…I am not ready.”

“Are you afraaaaaid?” Stan mocks him once again. “Little Lewis is afwaid!!” The boy begins to cackle in his face.

“Stop! Don’t laugh at me!” Of course he’s terrified. He didn’t want to do that yet, wanted to wait to have sex when he was older, a little more…in control of his emotions and body, not as petrified of the pain. _Stan isn’t exactly gentle._ “Will it hurt?” 

“I don’t know! We won’t know unless we try! Stop being such a baby.” Stan begins to kiss Louis on the mouth. “Let’s try now”

 “R-right now? But…we don’t…have protection and my sisters are right next door. We’re supposed to be watching them by the way.”

“Protection from what? Getting my seed in your ass? I think we’re clean and it’s physically impossible for you to get pregnant…so let’s get naked!” He pulls off his sweats. 

“Wait, Stan.” Louis feels his erection shrink. “I don’t think this is a good idea. My sisters-”

“You love me right?” Stan takes his hands in his and kisses his fingertips.

“Y-yeah?…I do…D-do you love _me_ , though?”

“Sure…” The kid pulls off his shirt. “Turn over and try not to make a lot of noise”.

He cries all night.

He buries his face in a pillow.

He can still feel Stan all over.

And he can’t get it out of his mind.

 

**Scene Four: Leaving**

“You want to go where!?”

They're in Stan's room when the kid breaks the news to him.

“California. I'm going to the west coast for college.”

“W-what...why!?” He grips a chunk of his hair. “You can't leave me.”

“You're coming.” Stan states matter of fact.

“I...wait I already accepted admission at-”

“Don't care you're coming with me. I need you.”

“My mother-”

“Is suffocating you! You need to get away from her!”

“No Stanley, I don't. But you need to escape your father. Don't drag me into this!”

“Lewis, please! You can easily get into UCLA. You're practically a genuis!”

“That's not the point. My mother needs me. She just gave birth to twins!”

“What about me and what I need, huh? Do you even care!?”

“Of course I do but making me go all that way? I like it here. I like our city.”

“I can't stay home anymore. My father is getting worse, Lewis. Look!” Stan turns around and lifts his shirt up revealing a baseball bat sized welt on his back. Louis gapes.

“You need to call the cops! Report him for child abuse.”

“I'm not a child anymore Lewis! We’re eighteen!!”

“Then do something! Don't just run away!” His boyfriend takes hold of his shoulders.

“No, I want to leave here. Be on my own. Start over. And I want to start over with you.”

“Start over? You don't appreciate what we had already?”

“No I meant I want to start a new life and bring you with me.”

“That's a huge change…”

“You'll love it.”

“I do like the beach.” _The beach is our place, our sanctuary._

“We can move there. Be right there.” Stan reassures.

“Uh... I guess?”

“Good, we leave in a month.”

 

**Scene Five: A Present**

“LEWIS!” Stan yells from the bedroom.

He's at the kitchen counter in their small apartment when he hears his boyfriend come barreling in.

“What did you do with my purple tie?” He is in the middle of making his lunch and he cannot be bothered right now. _I have new recruits coming today I cannot be delayed_. “Well? hello?”

“Stanley, I don’t _know_. I’ve been too busy preparing for my day.”

“I cannot wait to move out of this shithole and _away from you_.” The man stomps out of the kitchen and back into the bedroom. “You close on that house tomorrow by the way.”

“Yeah yeah…” He is washing an apple when Stan reappears.

“I need something before I go.”

“What? Coffee? A muffin? I think I have-” The man is on top of him, groping him, kissing him, invading his mouth with his tongue, making him insanely turned on. _This is…different_. He tries to follow his boyfriend’s lead, allows those hands to touch him, and obediently keeps his own behind his back. _Crap he’s…really into it_.

“Face the wall.” He looks up at him.

“B-but-” _Already? I sort of wanted to continue that._

“Shut up.” Stan takes his shoulders and turns him around into the countertop forcing the air from his lungs. It was like being punched in the gut, the stinging in his abdomen is alive and keeping his arousal at bay. _And shut up? What the fuck?_ He feels his shorts being tugged down and shirt moved up. _Must be something new._ He lays his hands out in front of him and rests his cheek on the counter. “Stay still and _don’t make a sound_.”

“A-alright.” He squeaks. _Mistake!!_ Stan slaps him between the legs. He is so startled he cannot even fathom what just happened.

“Really? When I say _don’t make a sound_ , I mean _don’t make a fucking sound!_ ” He wants to turn around, stop this behavior, stand up for himself.

“Hey! Take it easy!” He pushes himself away from the granite that is biting into his skin. “You’re hurting me, goddamn it.”

“Just enjoy it.” The man’s tone is clipped and unfeeling.

“I will when you stop with this crap!” Louis turns his head.

“Fine. Face forward.” He leans back over the counter. “I still don’t want to hear a sound.” Louis rolls his eyes and obviously keeps quiet. _Whatever…we’re never doing this again_. Stan leans over him and takes his hands. _What now?_ He feels something soft being wrapped around his wrists.

“Stanley, what are you doing?”

“I really find it funny how you just cannot _shut up_ for more than two seconds.”

“You're doing all of this weird shit to me and I can't say anything!?”

“No!!” The man continues binding his wrists together.

“What if I don't like it!?”

“You're mine.” He grunts out. _What the fuck?_

He's pushed into the counter with his hands securely behind his back. “You're fucking mine and I will do what I want with you.” Louis is flabbergasted, utterly petrified at his boyfriends audacity and brash behavior.

“Stanley, stop it now!” He demands. “Untie my wrists. Let me go. This isn't doing it for me!” His face is planted into the cool granite as a response.

“You're getting a little thicker around the middle, Lewis. I think you need to go on a diet.” He struggles more, disregards the insult. “I got this new toy, you see. It's meant to train disobedient significant others.” He is fighting against this man holding him down and practically suffocating him. “It'll help you keep your _mouth shut._ ” _Oh my God... he's fucking lost it._

His head is lifted up off of the counter with a vice like grip. _Breathe..breathe…_! An object is shoved into his mouth, something thick, and unforgiving, circular. _Is he choking me!?_ He starts to struggle against the binds and the hand strapping whatever it is to his head. He cannot breathe, cannot think, cannot save himself from this.

“Happy birthday, Lewis.” The man doesn't even wait, doesn't even care, just slips his way in and fucks him dry. “Hope you like your present.”

 

**Scene Six: Sunset Boulevard, 03:45 AM**

He touches his face again.

“Hey.” He looks to his left. “Is there something on your cheek?”

“Nope.” He drops his hand into his lap dismissing the question.

“You keep doing that. Is it from your dream?” They're at a red light.

“W-what?” He stutters. The dream was weeks ago but what Harry doesn't know is that he _continues_ having it and he doesn't understand why. It's different variations, but it's always the same...he's bound, gagged, and getting fucked. It makes his skin crawl.

“Lou, you keep touching your face. Let me look.”

“It's nothing I just feel ticklish I suppose.” He turns his face away to hide whatever it's revealing.

“You can tell me anything. I'll never judge-” A radio call comes over interrupting their conversation. _Thank goodness._ “Ugh, these fucking tourists. They always cause trouble.”

“Where is it this time?” Louis questions. He wasn't really paying close enough attention to really care.

“One of those damn bars.”

Obviously Niall isn't driving him tonight. The lieutenant wanted Horan to train with an actual officer rather than a Sergeant since his tasks could differ. It wasn't the easiest conversation to have but it's business, not personal. He still really likes the kid even though he is certain he is on the blondes shit list. _Well, if I were stuck with Sandy, I would be too_.

“Great.” He rolls his eyes. _I need to kick the habit..._

They arrive on scene and it's not _too terrible_. There is a rather large group of people surrounding the exit of one of the bars to either a) snatch a selfie with a celebrity or b) snatch a selfie with a celebrity. He wants to scream. _Who the fuck cares about them!? They're just people._

“Alright, let's do it.” Louis winks at Harry.

“Oh, I intend on it.”

He has little to no difficulty walking any longer. His leg healed, his arm is unfortunately scarred, but luckily the injury on his cheek was not as deep and will only be a distant memory. It's one thing to have a five inch scar on his arm, but to have to explain one on his cheek? _No thanks._

Probably the greatest relief is not having to do desk duty anymore. He was essentially a bitch for the entire staff, doing paperwork, filing complaints, making phone calls, faxing shit. He had it after two nights (he had it after one night but what else could he do?). He was a goddamn Sergeant, he had responsibilites, officers to boss around. It wasn't easy. _And slap on that dream._ He's happy to be on a call rather than making one even if it's as simple as this.

“You take this side?” The officer questions.

“Nah we can stand over here.” He says. “ _Together.”_

“I think you get off on giving me orders.” The man whispers in his ear.

“I do.” _I was never allowed to in the past_.

“Good. Can't wait for later.”

Crowd control is easy... especially one such as this one. Everyone is relatively calm, mostly sober, and probably only fifty percent paparazzi.

So they just hang out in the back and monitor. It's not glamorous and it's certainly not exciting (nothing is worse than being confined to a car) but they can interact with the people and entertain themselves. _And I get the lovely Officer Styles all to myself._

 

**Scene Seven: Manhattan Beach, 10:45 AM**

“When is your band playing again?” He asks.

“Couple weeks.” Harry is lying on his back facing directly at the sun. “I'm writing a few new tunes.”

“Is that so?” He sits up and looks down at the man who happens to be topless and oh so delicious. “What's it about?”

“I can't tell you.”

“Wait, why!?”

“You'll hear it eventually.” The man shrugs. “But you have to come and _watch_ us perform in order to. So you better be there.”

“I will not miss it. I promise.”

“I’ll hold you to it.” He feels his heart sink in his chest.

“I couldn't help the last time.” Louis reminds him. “I was hurt and I came afterwards to pick your drunk ass up even when I wasn't supposed to.”

“Dont remind me! I was such a mess.” Harry sits up. “No more reminders, alright?”

“Then stop making me feel bad about it!”

“Okay fine.”

“How much longer are we going to stay here?”

“I thought you loved the beach.”

“I do. I just had something in mind…” He trails off. He's looking out at the ocean while absently running his fingers up and down Harry's arm.

“Are you dreaming again?” The man probes. He whips his head around.

“Why do you ask?” He instantly removes his hand.

“You're very restless when you sleep. I don't want to pry but-”

“Then _don't ask_.” He snaps.

“Well, if you continue to kick me in my sleep, I won't stop until I have an answer!”

“Whose getting married?” He blurts. _He wants to pry into my life then I can do the same!_ Harry flinches at the question.

“How did-”

“The _phone call_. I heard it, heard you, heard your screaming.” The man's face falls. “Well?”

“That's...a story for another time…” Harry shies away from him.

“Is it? Why not spill it now? Come on I'm waiting.” He taps his wrist. “Tick tock.” He clicks his tongue.

“Wow, just wow, Lou.”

“What? You keep asking me about my dream. Isn't it only fair if I ask about a simple wedding?”

“It's not that simple! It will change everything!” Harry raises his voice. “Time is running _out_. I can't fuck around, can't fight with you. I can't _take things slow_. Do you understand that?” Louis looks down at his hands. “I am only asking about your dream because it's making you distressed. I see the way you touch your wrists, your face. You're doing it now in fact.” He releases his left wrist on impulse. “I _never_ asked for specifics. But maybe if you share-”

“You'll think I'm crazy! You'll just tell me I should have left _years_ ago but I...couldnt and I cant explain why.” He touches his cheek again.

“Maybe if you talked about it, you wouldn't feel this way, Lou. I'm here to listen damn it.” _Why does he care so much? Why am I so stuck on him?_ Louis looks at Harry, sees the concern in his eyes, witnesses the torment, the longing residing just below the surface. He's seen it before, felt it when they kissed for the first time, touched, had _sex._

He cannot help himself, his body has a mind if it's own, has this pent up need that is waiting to be released, and life is too fucking short to care.

He takes the man's face in his hands and kisses him on the lips. He wants to wash away the years he spent being belittled, starved, and stripped raw, cleanse his mind with tenderness and affection, fill his future with warmth and love, convey his own need through an act he was deprived of.

They're in public, kissing quite vigorously, making out as if their life depended on it, their very own souls thriving off of their intimacy. _This is the kiss on the beach I want engrained in my mind._

His emotions are getting the best of him, taking control, guiding him to this beautiful person in front of him, a man he is no where near worthy of. He wonders sometimes why Harry even looked his way, found attraction in his gaunt frame and shitty personality, saw hope.

He's a fake, he walks around with a plastic smile, hides the sadness that looms over him...pretends everything is _just fine_ even though his mind is a fucking mess. And this random person saw him, saw through it and _still_ wanted him.

He clutches even tighter onto the man's body, crawls into his lap, straddles his hips, smashes their lips together. He cannot get close enough, they're flush against one another but it feels like an ocean separates them, as if an invisible force is pulling them apart preventing them from being together. No matter how hard he holds on, he feels his grip slipping. _I can't let go. He can't let go. Don't forget me!_

He feels Harry's hands on his back, the push of his arms against his spine, those long fingers intertwining with the cotton of Louis’t-shirt. He savors it, sinks deeper into the man's very being, bathes in his aura, breathes him in. _I want you. I want you closer._

This moment is far too emotional, too intimate for the beach, _too heated_ for this setting. They need to leave.

“Ew! Mom!!!”

Louis breaks away to find the source of that little voice screaming and sure enough, there's a little girl pointing at them.

“I think we can go now.” Harry chuckles into his neck.

“Um... yeah that's probably best.”

_And I have this killer boner right now._

 

**Scene Eight: Harry’s Condo, 11:45 AM**

They barely made it home.

The moment the front door closed the two men were on top of one another, picking up exactly where they left off. He cannot contain himself any longer. It's as if the man awakened this other side of him, a side he was forced to surpress, a side that was robbed from him, and he missed out...

Louis walks backwards but awkwardly hits the bottom step and collapses.

“Shit!” He yelps as he loses his footing. He reaches out to Harry and tugs him down. _Come here!!_

“The stairs?” The man asks.

“Anywhere.” _Just fucking touch me._

“Alright, not the stairs.” Harry pulls him up. “I don't want to hurt my back.” _Your back?_

The man takes his hand and they carefully climb the stairs.

He tightens his hold and simply sighs. That small touch means so much, emanates strength, and protection. It's innocence, it's bliss, it's a connection...and he cannot let go. And he wonders how in the hell he fell so fast?

They reach the landing and the flood gates open. All the passion they shared on the beach is coming forth tenfold. Louis is certain their bodies became one; there is not an inch of space between them even with the height difference. And shit, he wants to be man handled, ravished, touched all over, taken over the edge.

He can feel sparks of lust pulsating underneath his skin with every swipe of Harry's tongue and push towards the sofa. His body is responding, coming alive, breathing in the very being in front of him, anticipating what's to come.

He pulls Harry's shirt up and over his head, feels the sun kissed skin beneath, basks in the warmth, kisses the chest he longs to lay on, runs his fingers along the man's back. He feels every muscle, dip, curve. He wants to memorize it all, touch every inch.

“ _I want you.”_ He chokes out practically begging. “Please.”

“You will. I'm yours.” Harry responds. He cups Louis’ cheeks, kisses him on the lips, then gently pushes him down onto the cushions of the couch. “Wait _right_ here.” The man runs from the room leaving him sprawled out and completely clothed. _What the fuck?_

His skin is humming, his cock is fucking straining against his jeans waiting to be freed. _Why the fuck did I wear these anyway?_ _And he just walks away_. Before he can think further Harry is back. _Thank the good Lord!_

“Sorry.” Harry is on him again straddling his hips. “Lou, I want you.” He announces.

“S-sure.” He is looking up into those green irises and he's entranced, completely captived in their depths, falling so deeply for this man he cannot see anything but him. There are a multitude of emotions flooding him all at once, bombarding him, taking the very breath from his lungs. _What's happening?_ He cannot find the words to describe what's coming over him, how to decipher these emotions. _Maybe later._

“Lou, hey.” He feels Harry's fingers on his bicep giving him a gentle squeeze, giving him life. “You seem a little spaced out. Are you okay?”

“Yes!” He practically yells. “Sorry. Yes I'm perfect... actually.” He reaches for the man's hands and pulls him onto him. “I feel wonderful.” He admits. “And I can thank you for that.”

“You have no idea…” The man eyes him for a moment longer then lays next to him.

“Uh.. what are you-”

“So when I said I needed you, Lou I actually _meant_ it.”

“Why are we talking?” He feels the words roll off his tongue.

“Ha you're cute.” He takes hold of Louis’shoulders and tugs him forward. “Don't make me beg.”

“For what?” Their faces are practically touching.

“You.” Harry leans in, begins to kiss him with more fervor, thrusts his hips up, moans against Louis’ mouth. _Holy fuck._ He practically cums in his pants, replays those few words in his head...every inflection...the underlying emotion. _He wants it. He wants it from me._ He pulls away to calm himself. “What?”

“Harry, you want me to fuck-”

“Well I wouldn't say _fuck_ but yes damn it. I want to feel you.” The man pulls his shirt up. “Take off these jeans.” He works off the denin instantly and rids Harry of his shorts.

_Holy shit. Alright I've got this. It's a sinch. Prepare and fuck. Prepare and...he didn't want to call it that._

He settles himself between those legs. _My first thought was having them wrapped around me, no?_ And here he is once again. He hates to reminisce at a time like this but he can't help but think that maybe this is what Harry wanted the last time. He was so stuck in his own head and trying his best to not think about what he had with Stan that he completely forgot about his partners needs.

It's selfish.

He was selfish.

And he isn't very proud of that.

He lays on top of the man, gently runs his fingers through those curls he has longed to touch, kisses those plump (too pink) lips, gives his all, speaks through his touches, communicates his emotions with every swipe of his tongue. He's drawn into that smell, that scent that has completely filled his nose.

He's exploring, properly learning this body he wants to spend his days lying with, touching when he wants, waking up next to in the morning (or at night), growing old-...he sits up suddenly and runs a hand down his face.

“W-what happened?” Harry sounds breathless.

“Uh... nothing. It's nothing really.” He smirks and places his hand on the man's chest. “You ready?”

“Come on!! Really?” Harry reaches behind him. “Here.”

“Banana flavored? That's...really gross.” He looks at the bottle with disgust.

“Sh!!” He looks up and how can this man be so beautiful? _I think an Angel came down and blessed him with perfection because really...he isn't real._ “Lou-eeee!!!”

“Okay! Sorry I am just admiring your pretty face.” _I don't think I've ever said that aloud._ He waits for Harry's reaction but he seems to be staring at him with this _look_.

He squeezes the liquid onto his fingers and the smell of bananas brings him back to reality. _It's okay, you've done it before._

Louis places a hand on Harry's hip and a single digit at his entrance. His mind is focused on the man under him, listening intently for any indication that he may be in pain or uncomfortable, concerned for his needs. He pushes in and hears the gasp of air in response. He wants to stop, immediately cease his movements understanding _completely_ how intrusive this is, how much it can hurt, tries not to think about himself. _He seems okay though._ He closes his eyes and pumps his finger in and out…

In and out… _whimper._

In and out… _intake of breath._

He adds a second finger.

Another gasp followed by a slight moan.

 _He is okay I think. I'm being gentle_. So Louis pumps those two fingers simultaneously, opens him, prepares him, ensures he is comfortable, feeling pleasured. He adds a third without question and Harry releases an audible moan. He freezes. _Was that too much?_ He looks at the man and he is openly panting, his hands are clutching the couch cushions, his face relaxed, eyes closed and mouth ajar. _A-alright!!_

He moves his hand, thrusts his fingers a few more times. _Is that it? Is he ready?_

“Are you...uh…”

“ _Yes._ Jesus Christ yes.”

“Sure. Okay great.” He murmurs.

He pulls his digits out, takes hold of the bottle.

“Here.” He sees the foil packet shoved in his face. _Keep forgetting that._

“Yes, sorry.” He makes work of the condom and just ugh...Is he really doing this? _I gotta stop stalling._ He puts more of the liquid on his fingers and strokes his length. _Okay, wow._ He closes his eyes once again at the sensation.

“Save that for me.” He finds Harry's eyes.

“Yup.” He wipes his hand on his thigh and sits in between those legs to steady himself. “If...if I hurt you-”

“You won't.” The man sounds so sure. He nods his head once.

Louis’ eyes never waver from the man's features even when he sinks himself in. He's watching that face, watches the way his eyes close, watches the way his mouth parts, savors in the noises he makes, watches his fingers clutch onto the sofa. He is overwhelmed. He's feeling this too, feels the snugness, the tight confines he is not used to. He feels it everywhere.

“Fuck.” He rushes out. He moves his hips, instantly feels the butterflies in his tummy, feels the start of something unforgettable. He is moving, clutching onto Harry's hips as he thrusts into him. “P-put your legs around me.” He instructs. And that does him in. Those long, tan, muscular legs are around his tiny waist and that's it! _Can't cum...that'll be so pathetic!!_

He's going, willing his strength to his hips, looking to make Harry scream out. _In a good way...always a good way_. He keeps his thrusts steady and calculated, nothing jerky or awkward. _Harry only deserves perfection and that's what he'll receive._

“T-touch me.” He hears the voice, hears the pleading. He does it, takes hold of the man's awaiting shaft and moves his hand along with his hips. He's going to lose it quick if he keeps this up. He can already feel his orgasm climbing, increasing in its intensity and it takes a fuck ton of will power to stop it. _For you Harry this is for you._

The man is stirring under him, tightening his legs around Louis, his hips are bucking up, body shaking…The man's handsome face is contorting, eyes scrunching closed as he continues to move his hips in a circular motion, giving himself and Louis more friction. _Fuck fuck fuck!_

He hears Harry's strangled cries of ultimate pleasure as he cums onto his hand, feels his body relax into the cushions, senses his satisfaction.

He watched Harry become completely undone before his eyes, watched him fall apart, witnessed such an intimate moment and he still cannot fathom it was him. _Me. I caused that. I did this._

He leans forward places his hands next to Harry's head and begins thrusting into him, while staring intently into those green eyes, watching that angelic face, reading every emotion, getting so lost he nearly lost his rhythm.

But he has to climax, has to witness what this feels like...finally realize what he's been missing.

It saddens him though. For so many years he was forced to live _underneath_ someone, put his needs last, live in a bubble where he couldn't be his own person. He's finished with that part of his life. He'll enjoy it, enjoy this beautiful person he has, and finally be at peace.

The humming is all over, driving him forward, giving him strength to continue. He's so close...can practically taste it, can imagine himself getting to his peak.

He's breathing heavily, his skin slick with sweat, mind fuzzy with the need to fucking climax. He's pounding into the man, chasing his orgasm, feels the tingling in his tummy, feels the blood rushing in his veins and heart thumping in his chest. He's got this...he's got this...hes nearly-

“Lou, you're so b-beautiful.”

He releases with a resounding sigh, feels the release, the sense of serenity. He feels incredible. Harry wraps his arms around his back and hugs him close. He doesn't even care about their sweat, doesn't care about the dried cum on their torsos, doesn't care about anything...he is wrapped up in these arms, feeling their strength and protection, and he never wants to leave.

_Harry you've got me._


	7. On Your own

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You may read!

**Scene 1: Hollywood Community Precinct, 08:15am**

[S]: Can you please meet me?

This is the fifth text he's received from his ex in the past week. He almost caved after the fourth but then that damn dream popped into his head and he ignored it.

But five?

“Hey, come on.” He hears Harry and simply puts his phone away.

“Yes, let's go.” He smiles and considers it a win.

**Scene 2: Louis’ House, 07:45pm**

He is off tonight.

Campbell asked him to work overtime but he decided against it. He needs to relax and tend to his home that he's neglected for quite some time. Harry is practicing with his band so he took the opportunity to have _alone time._

He's cleaning the kitchen when his phone buzzes.

He does not hesitate to answer believing it to be Harry.

“Hey!” He answers cheerily. _I guess they're taking a break._

“Lewis.” He feels his face fall.

“Uh um-” He goes to hang up.

“Lewis I'm outside. I need to speak with you.”

“W-why? What do you want?” He touches his face then his left bicep, feels the burning sensation, the tears, the back ache. He wraps his arm around his stomach.  

“I _have_ to speak with you. There is something you need to know. It's about your boy-toy Harry.” _Boy toy!?_

“Typical jealous ex-boyfriend.” He huffs.

“I'm not kidding. I am serious.”

“Well so am I!” He hangs up the phone and runs a hand down his face. _He's outside. He's OUTSIDE!?_   There's a loud knock and he flinches. “Go away!!!”

“Lewis you have to hear me out!! You can't hide from me forever.”

“Yes I can! I hate you.” He reassures himself. “I fucking hate you!”

“I know you do. But Harry isn't who he says he is!”

“Look at the pot calling the kettle black!!”

“No Lewis, I'm serious.” Louis listens to the man's tone, hears actual sincerity in that voice. _Certainly not something I am accustomed to._ What should he do? Cave like always? “Just open up. You don't deserve to get hurt again.” _Well whose fault is that? “_ At least listen to what I have to say then decide for yourself.”

He takes a deep cleansing breath, reminds himself he can no longer get hurt, will no longer have to worry about this man laying a hand on him again. He walks to the door and opens it up. He barely feels anything towards the man, can hardly remember a time when he actually cared. _It feels good to be free._

“Make it quick.” He crosses his arms over his chest and stands in the doorway. Stan looks the same, still wearing those custom suits, still looking absolutely breath taking (which he hates to admit, but those suits always did something to him).

“What, you're not even going to invite me in?”

“ _No_.” He feels his anger. “Just fucking talk.”

“Wow Lewis becomes a sergeant and thinks he can boss everyone around, eh?” Stan starts to cackle. _That sound hurts my ears. It always did...and always will_.

“God fuck you.” He is about to slam the door closed when Stan pushes through. He's always been stronger, bigger, a goddamn meathead, so it's no surprise Louis loses his grip on the handle. “Get out!!” He feels his nerves, feels the anxiety creeping up his spine, the overwhelming fear. _He won't hurt me. He won't come near me_. He stands his ground.

“Still looks good!” Stan takes in the home. “I was afraid you would trash the place and abandon it.”

“Uh...why-”

“I got this in the mail by the way.” The man procures a letter from the breast pocket of his coat. “Says something about defaulting on a loan payment. What happened?” Louis rips it from his hand.

“Why didn't I get it?” He quickly skims the words on the page and feels his heart sink. “But I-”

“Missed a payment, yes. In fact your last one was due two weeks ago. What are you trying to do to me? Two months in the hole?” He keeps reading the words, memorizing every letter but nothing is making sense. _I...I paid? I thought_ \- “Lewis, since you clearly cannot afford this home I've decided to place it on the market.”

“ _What?”_ He drops the notice. “You can't do that!”

“I am and I did.” He takes yet _another_ sheet of paper out of his pocket. “Here. That's the asking price.” He stares at it, wills it to be false, convinces himself Stan is simply bluffing. “I suggest you take a look. I guess we won't have to stage the place either.” He hears a meow and notices Luke walking in followed by a very grumpy George. “Oh I forgot about them.” The man makes a face. “Hope you find an apartment that allows pets.” He practically collapses against the wall. He's light headed, a little disoriented from this news, a little heartbroken.

But this is what Stan does. He puts him in a situation where he has to convince himself he _needs_ this man. The house is simply a pawn in his game. _I am sick of his shit_.

“No. I'll make it work. You cannot throw me out! I co-signed!”

“No, actually you didn't. This house is _mine_ and I'm selling it.”

“What do you mean I didn't!? I was there at the closing!!”

“I only listed you as an occupant you shit. Didn't you pay attention!?” _No because I was exhausted. You kept me up all night fucking me until I couldn't speak...gagging me, killing my dignity_. He takes a deep steadying breath.

“I'll leave. I'll find a place to live.” _I wonder if Harry-...I can't drag him into this though!_ He cannot depend on anyone, he has to get through this himself. “How much time do I have?” He keeps his nerves in check and speaks as even toned as possible.

“There is actually an open house tomorrow afternoon. Will you be home?” _Tomorrow!?_ He begins to sweat.

“T-that’s very soon.”

“Yeah well this house is a burden and I want it off my chest.”

“Well I'll be asleep-”

“Oh yes you work overnights. That doesn't work well with my schedule you see.”

“I guess I can stay at Harry's.” He clamps his mouth shut. _I am a shit._

“Oh yeah boy-toy! How's the rebound relationship going?”

“How's it feel to be a side piece?” He counters.

“Side piece? Nice.” Stan plays off the insult.

“You're the _other man_ , Stanley! Soon that girl will be married and you'll be _alone_. Don't you see!? She's using you.”

“She's going to leave-”

“Stop with the high and mighty shit. She will not leave her fiancé for you.”

“How the fuck do _you_ know? You barely know your ass from your elbow!!”

“It’s funny how you insist on making fun of me, having this need to bring me down for your own personal gain. Tell me, do you feel satisfaction doing that?” He questions. But his ex is silent for once. “You'll forever hopelessly wander looking for your next piece of ass, your next easy fuck and object to torture, to bring them down with you, make them feel pathetic and alone. But _never_ me. You will _never_ get the pleasure from me again.” He walks to the door, opens it up. “Take the house, it's the last string keeping us together and honestly I want nothing to do with you.” Stan remains perfectly still. It actually frightens him...but he knows he's thinking, formulating a plan, a speech, _anything_ to bring him down.

“Don't be sure, _Lewis_. The second your boy-toy leaves you'll come running back. And trust me, he doesn't have much time. In fact, I'm surprised daddy dearest hasn't dragged him back already.” The man walks through the doorway. “Look forward to seeing you again, little Lewis.”

The moment he is out of sight he slams the door closed and sinks to the floor feeling the onslaught of emotion consume him. He stood his ground, talked back, hopefully knocked some sense into that dreadful person. Stanley will never learn though. That's who he is through and through and there is no changing him. He will always find a way to manipulate any situation to get his way. That's how he succeeded all of these years. He's a salesman, fakes it till he makes it, fabricates, elaborates, sugar coats. And here he shows up telling him Harry is leaving. _He only did that to rattle me. Make me question everything. It's fine. Harry isn't_ -

“He can't take things slow.” Louis says aloud. “What did he mean by that?” George and Luke approach him. “Boys what did Harry mean by that?” He asks again because he needs an answer. Harry has to tell him, has to confirm his suspicions, make sure Stan is _wrong._

But what if he's right? What if his ex is right and the moment Harry leaves he comes crawling back knowing damn well he can't stand being alone. _All those years of having constant communication with his mother, siblings... Stanley...I hate being alone. Maybe I'm the hopeless wanderer. Maybe I'm the one who is lost?_

He pets the cat’s heads.

“Don't worry. We'll be okay.” A single tear slides from his eyes. “It's fine really.”

But soon enough he's crying into his hands knowing damn well he's fucked and soon will be homeless.

**Scene 3: Louis’ House, 11:45pm**

The front door opens.

“Lou?” He hears that sweet voice in the doorway and wants to melt into the floor. Just that one syllable gives him life, a modicum of hope, a sense of peace.

“I'm in here.” He's sitting at the desk in the spare bedroom reviewing his bills...his _unpaid_ bills _._ The worst part is, he doesn't recall not paying his mortgage. _When did that happen? Why can't I remember?_

“Hey. I thought you'd be taking a nap.” Harry kisses him on the temple.

“Uh…”

“And you dropped this.” The notice is once again shoved in his face and he just wants to vomit. He doesn't even want it.

“Whatever.” He disregards it. _The house isn't mine anyway._

 _“_ What is it?”

“It's nothing!!”

“Lou it states you missed your payment.”

“Give me that!!” He becomes frantic, so enraged that Harry would even consider reading his personal shit. He reaches out but Harry holds him at arm's length. “I'm not kidding!!”

“ _Calm down_.” The man instructs. _Okay that was hot._ And just like that he stops. “What are you going to do?” He doesn't even feel the emotions until he starts to cry into his hands from shame. He can't even hide it anymore. There's no use.

“I...I don't remember missing it. It must have been when I was injured. And there really is no excuse but I forgot and now Stan is going to sell-” Two large, strong, and welcoming arms wrap around his body.

“It's okay. It'll be _fine_. I can...wait what? Sell!?” Harry pulls away and eyes him. “What do you mean sell?”

“S-Stan _dropped_ by earlier and gave me that stupid letter and told me he is selling the house because it's a burden and I can't afford it. And-and now I'll have to find a place to live. Harry I can't leave the cats. I can't...how can I possibly find something? He has an open house tomorrow!!” He starts to freak out again.

“Alright. Let's think rationally...let's weigh our options and see what can be done.”

“We?”

“Lou, I'm going to help you.”

“But I need to do this on my own!”

“Yes you can but you're not because I-” He pauses before continuing. “...I can't see you hurting like this.” The man looks thoughtful. “Will you accept my help?”

“I…” _I can't depend on him. But just for a little…_ “Only temporarily though.”

“Of course.” Harry squeezes him before letting go.

“I'll figure it out. I won't mooch off of you.”

“Lou.”

“Even if…you know I had to live with you it would be for a short time.”

“...Lou.”

“And I'll clean, I can't really cook...I can make a killer fluffer nutter sandwich and-”

“ _Lou!”_ He shuts his mouth. “Stop. It's okay.” Harry kisses the top of his head.

“Sorry...a lot of shit happened.” He touches his cheek.

“It's okay. You will find a place to live where Luke and George will be allowed. You can stay at my place for as long as you want. Don't feel pressured.”

“That's really kind of you.” He looks down at his hands.

“So no more tears.”

“A-alright.” He swipes at his face. “Oh Stan said something today.”

“Is that so?”

“He said you're leaving.” He plays it off. “I think he's just a jealous prick.” He looks up when the man is silent and Harry appears visibly shaken. “He just…what’s wrong?”  The man goes pale. “Harry?”

“Uh…” Harry shoves a hand through his hair and walks out of the room.

“Harry!?” Louis quickly follows. “Does this have to do with the wedding?” He asks. The man is in the kitchen, against the counter with his face buried in his hands. “Are you okay!?” Louis runs to him. _It's my turn to comfort you_. He stands flush against Harry's back and hugs him from behind. He can feel the shaking, feel the man struggling to keep it together. “Please tell me.” Harry is quietly crying, fucking _crying_. _This must be big._ He thinks of the dream...thinks of this man and how much he means to him, how much he appreciates all he does for him and makes him feel. _It's time. Maybe if I share, he'll share. “_ I'll...I'll tell you about the dream.” He never told _anyone_ about how he was...forced to submit, forced to be a toy. _Maybe I was the fucking boy-toy._ “Remember when I said...how S-Stan would tie me down?” He feels Harry stir from underneath his embrace, so he relaxes his arms and allows him to turn around.

“I do.” Louis sees his red eyes and instinctively brushes away the tears.

“So um...lately I've been dreaming, well it's more like suffering from recurring nightmares.”

“Is that the reason for your restless sleep?” Harry takes his hand and runs his fingers over his knuckles.

“Yup. See...um...on my twenty-fifth birthday...he got me a present.”

“How _nice_ of him.”

“Uhm...yeah. Well, he saw it as a present I saw it as a...um...a way to control me...yeah so he got me this gift and used it on my birthday.” He diverts his gaze, keeps his face partially hidden, keeps his breathing even.

“What was it?” Harry asks.

“It was...it was a…” He motions towards his face.

“You lost me.”

“A fucking gag.” He rushes out. “He told me it's a way for people to train their disobedient significant others, a way to shut me up. And um...he never asked me. He just used it and continued to until I _learned_ to not make any noise.” He dips his head lower. “I never was allowed to touch him too. Even when we first met.”

“...why?” Harry tightens his hold on his hand.

“See his father was abusive. Used to hit him and me touching him would hurt so I learned that from day one.”

“And he never got over it?”

“No. Then he started keeping my hands bound I guess to practice his control over me. _I don't know_. So now I'm dreaming about it.”

“That's why you were touching your face.”

“Yeah. I feel it sometimes and I have to make sure it isn't there...make sure it’s simply in my head.”

“Why did you stay?” Harry whispers and he shrugs.

“I guess I got comfortable...and then this house...I felt indebted to him, like I owed him something in return for purchasing it for me.”

“But he hurt you! He forced things upon you that you did not want to do!”

“I can't explain it. He was my rock for so long...the only person I knew when we moved to California. It's like he isolated me on purpose. He needed someone to lean on and he chose me so he put me in a position where I couldn't escape.”

“And hurt you emotionally and physically.”

“Yes he did.”

“I'll never do that to you. I could _never_ fathom doing that to you...to anyone! It's cruel.”

“Yes it was. But it's in the past and I'll move on from it. It'll take time to heal but I'll be okay.”

“You will. It'll all work itself out. You'll have a place to live, a great job-”

“You.” He looks up and finds Harry's startled gaze. He wants to shrink away, disappear... _why did I say that!?_ “Okay sorry. I didn't mean-”

“You can't say shit like that.” Harry releases his hold and starts to pace.

“Say what?” He wants to crawl out of his skin he is so embarrassed.

“Talk like this... like what we have... will...could possibly be something…”

“Something what?” He chokes out.

“Something _more_.” His heart is pounding, his hands are sweating, he feels the dizziness overcome him in waves...giant tidal waves looking to drown him in sorrow.

“W-what?” Can he die right here? Right now? Right before this man's very eyes? _Of course it was too good to be true. I was nothing but…_ “...a piece of ass.” The words are bitter on his tongue. “W-was I meant to be a...you were using me?”

“ _Never_. Good God no. Please don't ever think that I used you. It's not _that._ ” Harry is still pacing, still running his fingers through his hair, tugging on the strands.

“Then what is it?” His hands are in his fists at his sides. “Is it the wedding that you apparently hate talking about?”

“That's part of it.”

“Okay so. What's the rest of it?” He is watching the man.

“I want to tell you.”

“So _say_ it! Am I missing something? You said you can't take things slow, can't fight with me...waste time. I'm really confused.”

“Can we go to the beach?” Harry asks.

“ _The beach?_ ”

“Yeah. I can't be inside…I need my freedom for as long as possible.”

“...but it’s almost the middle of the night!”

**Scene 4: Manhattan Beach, 00:30**

They're in the sand.

It's cool, practically freezing, but the numbness is calming his nerves, helping him think clearer. He is not prepared to have this conversation…still in denial that he is even leaving to begin with. He enjoys his life, enjoys the people he has met, worked with...especially _him_. But his time ran out and now he has to _return_ back to the life he was destined for, the life he is not interested in or emotionally tied to.

He looks over and finds Louis wrapped in a sweatshirt, cuddled into a ball, looking precious, and so small he wants to reach out and touch his skin. Harry cannot take his eyes off of him. He's transfixed on his beauty, his subtle ways, his daintiness, his everything. The man is absolutely perfect in his eyes, everything he's ever wanted in a person. He is all there in one package…so close.

He longed for this person, pined over him, had countless dreams about him, and now that he has this opportunity to ravish him, Harry has to leave. He prayed Louis wouldn't _want_ him…that his interactions with him would be purely innocent and nothing more, and simply admire from afar. But no. The poor man was drawn in and now he has to break his heart that was on the mend. _His fucking ex-boyfriend hurt him and now I am too. I'm no better than him honestly._

He _is_ just as bad, just as needy, just as selfish if not worse! He knew Louis got hurt, knew the man was going through a tough time, _witnessed_ him being mistreated and he still insisted. He is mentally kicking himself in the balls. He shouldn't have invited him out to the bar, shouldn't have spoken to him at the beach and _ask the Lieutenant_ to join them that one day. How could be he be so _fucking_ careless? What the fuck was he thinking? Louis would have been fine without him.

Would he though? He cannot afford his house…he’d be at the mercy of his ex, would probably run back to Stan for help. _No, he’ll stay in that house!_

“So are you going to stare at me all night? Or are you actually going to say something?” _I’ll pay it off for him._ Louis stirs him from his thoughts. He looks into those blue eyes long and hard searching for a reason to stay, finding any excuse he can conjure to keep this man with him forever.

_I want to kiss you._

Is all he has, it's all he can think of.

He leans forward, takes hold of Louis’ cold cheeks and conjoins their lips. Harry loves his taste, loves the way his mouth fits securely against his, loves how the man moans against him, and reaches for his neck and back. Those fingers are delicate but hold such strength, hold the power to Harry's heart, hold the key to happiness and he cannot let them go. He wants to feel them on him, feel them roaming his body and touching him just right.

He cannot pull away, cannot give up the chance to taste these lips for a second longer. This was his mentality the entire time...to live in the moment...to allow himself the opportunity to be with Louis so he will not stop. _Even if I tried I wouldn't be able to. He makes me so weak_.

He lost all his reserve, any coherent thoughts that should be telling him _NO_ , any and all barriers. He's opening himself to this person, offering his soul and body, allowing this man to take it away and keep it safe and tucked away. Harry continues to fervently kiss him and grips him tightly into his chest, sharing their warmth, breaking every boundary.

He blocks out any errant thoughts, pushes down any idea that he should _not_ be kissing this beautiful person, convinces himself this is right. Louis is in his lap, how he got there he doesn’t _know_ , but he doesn’t mind, he _wants_ this wants…unfortunately he _wants_ this and his mouth continues to work on its own.

Louis pushes slightly against him. “W-wait. We were supposed to talk.” He squeaks out as he kisses down Harry’s throat sending little pulses of pleasure down his spine. He closes his eyes at the pulling sensations those glorious lips are inflicting on him, the hands groping at his sweater. He wants it…he wants _more_. “So go on with it.” He hears over the ocean. “I can continue doing this if that’ll make it easier.” Louis is now at his chest, pulling down the collar to expose more skin. “I love it right here.” He runs his tongue along the base of Harry’s neck and he instinctively leans in towards the light touches. _Holy fuck_. “I guess you do too.” How did he even know that though? He feels his cock stir in his pants and he just has to _fuck_ him here. _I want you so badly._

“Y-you’re good. That _fucking_ tongue.” His voice is foreign to his ears and filled with lust.

“Talk, Harry.” The man instructs. “You need to tell me-” _A kiss_. “-what’s on your mind.” _Another kiss._

“Lou, if you continue with that-”

“Then _what_?” The man tempts him with more wet kisses on his throat.

“I’ll have to fuck you right here.” He hates that he said that. He never wanted to _fuck_ Lou, he wanted to have _sex_ with Lou or _jump into bed_ with Lou. _Never fuck…never-_ The man ceases his kisses and removes his lips from Harry’s throat. “ _Wait_ I didn’t…you know I hate-” He can see Louis’ face now. He cannot decipher the expression he finds.

“You can’t.”

“I didn’t _mean_ to say that. I swear!” He tugs him closer. “You just feel so good…it sort of rolled off my tongue.”

“Promise me you’ll never hurt me.” Louis orders. “ _Promise me_.” His heart is pounding in his chest because he cannot make such a promise. He knows he’ll hurt him in the end because _he cannot offer more_.

“Lou I-”

“Harry, NO.” The man pulls away from him and sits in the sand. _Don’t move please don’t move_. “You know what I went through! I can’t go through that again.” Louis clutches at his bicep. “ _Fucking promise_ me!”

“Listen to me!” Harry throws his hands up. “ _Listen_ -”

“You _are_ using me, huh?  Is that it? Was all that help you offered me meant to keep me around? Give me false _hope?_ What the fuck!”

“Stop! Stop…stop…STOP!” He takes hold of Louis’ shoulders. “I…okay let me just…”

“Get _offa_ ME!!!” The man struggles against him, pushes, attempts to kick his legs out. “Let me _go_!”

“ _Lou,_ my father is-”

“I don’t CARE who he is! Stop touching me!” With one final push, Louis is free and scrambling to stand up. “Why would you DO that?!” The man is crying, touching his arms, face, wrists.

“You’re freaking out over nothing…that’s why! Let me _talk_.” He shoves a hand into his hair.

“Go on then.” Louis crosses his arms over his chest. “Fucking _spill.”_

“So uh...you see...” _Fuck_. He cannot find the right words, the correct phrase.  _Do I just say it?_ “See my father...he is...very ill and sort of important-”

“Oh would you look at that!”

“-and he needs me to come home and _help_ him.” _I can't do this...I'm better off just leaving. He'll never believe me._

“Help with what!? Running a goddamn country!?” Harry stares at him in confusion. _I didn't tell him how did he-_ “You know I told you in confidence about my past, told you my biggest secret...my biggest regret and here you are struggling to simply tell me the truth.”

“Lou it's not that simple! You have to understand-”

“ _No_. I don't understand because you won't tell me anything!” The man runs a hand through his fringe. “I'm leaving.”

“Why!? Can I at least-”

“I can't be around you any longer. You hurt me, you lied, you did everything you said you would _never_ do and look at what we have here...you can't even tell me who is getting _married._ ” _I am. I'm the one who is._ But why can't he say it!? “Whatever, _Officer_. I've had it.” Louis walks away and leaves him to his lonesome.  


**Scene 5: Harry’s Condo, 01:15**

He’s facing the ceiling.

His phone has been buzzing non-stop for what feels like hours but he refuses to answer it. He doesn’t want to be bothered…he needs to think, find a way to tell Louis the whole truth, allow him to apologize for being selfish. He never thought it was in his character to be so concerned with his own needs to the point he’d completely destroy someone else.

He didn’t think he was capable.

But here he is, hurting the very being he is drawn to, cannot get out of his head, the man who radiates warmth and affection. He knew it would be temporary, limited…cut _short_. _I went after him anyway. Fell so hard for him._ And he cannot part like this.

He feels weak, his heart aches, his lips still _taste_ like Louis. He feels him all over…still feels those hands on his back, the pressure on his lips, the pulling sensation on his neck, those legs wrapped around him. He felt alive. Louis brings him _fucking_ life and now that’s gone.

What he would give to be near him…

**Scene 6: Louis’ Bedroom, 03:30am**

He hasn’t stopped.

His face is planted in a pillow as the tears run freely from his eyes. He feels defeated, beaten down, broken, unrepairable. His heart is aching, pounding in his chest, pumping reminders into his brain that he _is_ the one who is lost, that he is the one who was stupid enough to believe such lies…that _he is the one_ who was deceived for a second time.

He wonders if it’s engrained in his brain or hard-wired into his very disposition to find these men who are out for their own gain, looking to _hurt_ and cause others pain. It’s quite possible he was destined to be with someone like _Stan_ , someone who showers him with useless shit to make him stay and in turn uses him as repayment. Give and take.

He didn’t even think it through, didn’t find any reason to.

He feels the cats next to him, feels their gentleness on his arms, surrounding him, giving him comfort, feels strong arms encompassing him, feels two hands touching him, splaying out on his torso and pulling him. He instinctively leans into them, allows them to cradle him.

He doesn’t care who it is.

**Scene 7: ????**

_He’s choking._

_Hands are wrapped securely around his throat, his body is immobilized, arms rendered useless. The pressure on his chest is overwhelming him, making him cower under the person holding him down._ They won’t kill me…they wouldn’t dare _. He assumes…no, he knows. He is too important, his status alone is his savior. So this is just a scare tactic._

 _But he’s uncomfortable, his body requires oxygen, his head feels lightheaded._ Some game they’re playing _. He starts to struggle against the person forcing him down, obstructing his airway. This body is…strong._

 _“You hurt me.” He hears the voice and freezes, feels those fingers pressing into his Adam’s apple. “You fucking hurt me. How could you?” Those fingers gave him pleasure, now they’re causing him harm. “Why!!!” The person presses down._ I don’t think Dad sent them- _“I fucking hate you, too!”_

_More pressure._

_No air._

_All goes black._

**Scene 8: Louis’ Bedroom, 08:15AM**

“NO!!!”

He awakes abruptly from sleep and begins to fervently rub at his throat and face, scratches at his arms and legs, ridding his body of that despicable dream. He looks down at his hands…his _dirty_ hands and starts to cry all over again. Where the fuck did that come from? Of course he’s upset, but to do harm to another person?

Louis rolls over and sees his face, sees those beguiling eyes staring at him, those long fingers waiting to reach out and touch him, the concern written all over his face. He wants it. He needs to feel reassurance. He wants those hands on him even if it’s temporary. _I can live my_ _life on my own…right?_

The hand reaches out to him, clutches the back of his neck, and pulls him closer to their awaiting mouth. He practically falls into them, allows their scent and taste to consume him, to _remind_ him. He should feel afraid, very afraid, but he doesn’t care. He succumbs willingly, becomes malleable, allows them to pin him down and take advantage. He is clearly not in his right mind ( _Obviously)_ , understands he is hurting because of Harry, is completely aware he is doing this to forget. _I can secretly pretend your Harry._ But that man wouldn’t do this…it’s not his _style_. _I can still think it’s him when I close my eyes because he can only be mine when I dream_.

Stan must have come in the early hours…wrapped him up, held him, somehow knew he was hurting and needed a shoulder to cry on…to _depend_ on. _So much for doing things on my own…I can’t even grieve on my own_. He is surprised the man could be so gentle with him, that tenderness is indeed part of his vocabulary. Louis would have no idea…but he did come and now he wants something in return.

“Lewis.” He hears that voice and wants to shy away, push this man off of him, think rationally. “I…I’ve missed you.” He opens his eyes and is staring at the ceiling while Stan kisses him _softly_ on the neck and below his ear. He wants to lash out at the man for saying those words, for even _thinking_ them. “I had to come and see you.” Stan continues speaking against his skin. “When I saw that you were alone I had to lie next to you.” _Why isn’t he stopping_? He clenches his hands into fists that are above his head. He has to ignore these words spilling from his exes mouth…protect himself from the lies. “I know I was wrong.” _More kissing…he’s moving down…wait don’t do that_. He accidentally bucks his hips up at the sensation of Stan’s lips on his torso. _Harry…you are Harry._

Those green eyes capture his attention…those legs…that hair he wants to sink his nose into…that dimple he wants to kiss and continue kissing for the rest of his life.

He doesn’t mean to cry. He simply cannot help it.

“Please don’t cry.” _I am not crying over you. Don’t worry_. “It took me some time to sort out how I feel.” Stan is at his (surprisingly enough) hard cock and runs his tongue along the base. “And I know what it is.” He thrusts his hips up again on impulse. _Harry…Harry…Harry_. “I love you.” Louis practically jumps off the bed, becomes instantly limp, has a surge of emotions come alive under his skin. He puts his hands out.

“ _No._ ” He runs a hand through his hair. “No!! Fuck you.” He pants. _That’s all I have_.

“Lewis, _please_. It’s true…I love-”

“NO NO NO!” He covers his ears. “Don’t fucking saying it!!” He is practically in a ball on the floor trying to protect himself. “T-this was a mistake. I need to call Harry. I need-”

“You can’t _have him_. I’ve been trying to tell you!” Stan is on the bed still, eyeing him. “He just wanted to bed you and _leave_.”

“Just like YOU!” He whimpers from his place on the ground. “Just. Like. You.”

“I wasn’t-”

“At least Harry treated me with respect…gave a flying fuck about how I feel. You did _not_. And by coming here and spilling your heart out to me will _not_ change the past!” He starts to rub at his wrists. “I can still fucking feel it.” He rushes out. He moves to his cheeks. “The pain won’t go _away_.” He feels the burning sensation tingling on his skin…coming alive the longer he and Stan continue to talk.

“I didn’t do anything!”

“It’s your very presence, Stanley. Your very aura makes my skin fucking crawl.”

“Not even five minutes ago you were fine.”

“Yeah, submitting to you, being your bitch.” He continues to scratch at his arms. His hands still feel dirty from that dream where he… _How could I choke Harry?_ He doesn’t understand.

“What’s wrong with you?” Stan slowly approaches him. “Are you losing it?”

“ _I’ve already fucking lost it_ , you goddamn swine.” He chokes out. “You took it away _years_ ago….forcefully.”

“Stop rubbing your arm. You’re making it red!” Stan is mere inches from him.

“What do you care!” He feels his skin burning from his finger nails as he watches his ex. “What are you doing?”

“Give me your arm.” Stan reaches out to him but he quickly moves.

“Stanley, LEAVE!”

“ _No_! I am not leaving until you’re okay!” The man takes hold of both of his biceps and tugs him forward. He feels his nerves spike, has that sudden sense of fear he was waiting on, feels every pain Stan inflicted on him surface. _He’s going to hurt me…he is going to hurt me!!_ He is struggling against the hold, feels his heart beating in his ears. _Harry, I’m sorry…I’m so sorry._ Stan drops Louis onto the bed and inspects his arms.

“Don’t h-hurt me.” He pleads. “P-please.” He feels a sob creeping up his throat. “I b-beg of you…please don’t hurt me!” He tries to pull his arm away but Stan’s grip is firm and unrelenting. _Oh my god, he is going to fuck me._ He feels his breathing pick up, feels the anxiety. _I just started to feel good…just started to find myself._ “…and you’re going to take it all away!!!” He screams. He tries to push his ex away.

“Stop! I’m trying to-”

“Tell me you won’t hurt me?” His voice is a whisper now as tears runs down his cheeks.

“I…I couldn’t hurt the person I love, Lewis.” Stan whispers back as he swipes the tears off of Louis’ cheek. “I promise.” He looks into the man’s eyes.

“How do I know?” Stan sits next to him and places a gentle hand on his back. “What if you’re lying to me? You’ve lied…Stanley you cheated on me…abused me. How can I forgive you?”

The man leans into him and begins to kiss him, wraps his arms securely around Louis’ waist, keeps him close. He’s never experienced such passion from his ex, never thought the man was capable of it, but he is savoring in it, enjoying this for what it is. _It’s just a kiss…we’re just-_

Stan pushes him backwards and straddles his hips, squeezes his thighs, runs his fingers up and down Louis’ arms, inciting his arousal. He relaxes into the mattress, allows the man to kiss him and run his lips across his chest, and gently massage him between his legs. _When did I take off my clothes?_ He doesn’t even care…he needs this.

He thrusts his hips up and releases a moan in anticipation, at the sensations running under his skin, at those hands. He stretches his arms above his head and takes a deep steadying breath.

“Lewis…” He hears that voice but dismisses it. “You sound so hot.”

“Well you wanted me…quiet.” He shutters at the thought but sighs into those touches.

“Can…can you touch me?” Stan requests.

“What?” He opens his eyes. “Stan, I-”

“God please just put your hands on me.” He obliges willingly and tentatively places his hands on Stanley’s cheeks. “I’ve secretly wanted this you know.” _What is he doing to me?_ His hips are moving of their own accord, feels the friction between their heated skin, the desire. “I’ve dreamt of you touching me freely, fucking me into next week, giving me pleasure.”

“W-what happened?” He kisses down Stan’s throat as the man speaks. His fingers are gripping onto the man’s cheeks holding him relatively still.

“I…was afraid of losing you if I got too soft…lost my touch.”

“It would have kept me around…no?” He thrusts his hips up. “I w-want you.”

They start to progress, Louis removes Stan’s shirt, undoes the button, pulls down the zipper of the man’s jeans. He is certain…this is what he wants. He needs to feel again. He begins stroking Stan’s length between their bodies, feels the man shutter above him. He wants to make him cum, wants to _show_ what Stan was missing. All of those years when he was forced down…not anymore. He strokes longer and faster, makes the man whimper, can feel his arms shaking.

He lifts himself up and flips them over.

“I wanted to do this you know.” He starts and he reaches for the bottle of lube in the nightstand. “Bend your legs.” He squeezes some of the cool liquid on his fingers.

“And what would that be?”

“ _Shut up_ and bend your fucking legs.” He grunts. The moment the man does so, he plunges a finger into his entrance, hears the man groan at the contact, feels the satisfaction. _Good, take it._ He takes hold of Stan’s thigh and practically digs his fingers into the skin. “I wanted to _fuck_ you.” He starts as he continues to pump his pointer. “In your office actually…you know, bend you over, and give you a taste of your own medicine. Fuck you dry, make you squirm, cower from my touches.” He adds a second finger and Stan cries out. “But then I saw you…” He is not being gentle, he’s moving with purpose, showing his ex _just what the fuck he was missing_ , proving he can be just as raunchy. “…You were with someone else.” He scissors his fingers, widens the hole, pretends he is already buried balls deep. “The girl seemed confused…” He adds a third digit. “Embarrassed even.” His fingers are working, pumping, searching…

“Holy _fuck_.” Stan yelps. Louis bites the inside of the man’s thigh. “Oh…shit that’s incredible.” He bites again, this time with more force. “W-what-”

“You were about to fuck your assistant.” He replays the moment in his head as he pulls his fingers out. “You had your dick in your hand.” He takes the bottle and pours more liquid onto his fingers. “Your tailored slacks were wrinkled at your ankles.” He runs his hand up and down his shaft. “You _never_ liked wrinkles. Am I correct?” He is about to answer but Louis bites the inside of the man’s thigh and squeezes his fingernails deeper into the skin, praying for scarring. The man writhes underneath him. _Yes, how does that feel?_ “And she was ready and waiting.” He bites a fourth time and licks his lips. “Kind of like you right now. Ready and _waiting_.” He positions himself and grips his hand tighter around Stan’s leg. “Are you?” He strokes himself a few times.

“Am I what?” The man practically chokes out from below him.

“Stanley, are you?!” He asks again with more force, more anger.

“Holy _fuck_ what are you asking me?” _How does it feel to be confused?_

Louis plunges himself in, loses all inhibition, forgets his manners and kindness, leaves tenderness at the door as he literally fucks his ex. He doesn’t care. He grips those thighs surrounding him, thrusts into Stan, makes him feel every hit he is offering him. He closes his eyes and lets himself go…allows his anger to surge through him.

The man is insanely snug, almost like a virgin and he almost feels sorry for not asking. As far as he knows, he very well could be because _I never fucked him_. And that thought drives him further. After all of those years he was never given a chance, an opportunity to give pleasure to his boyfriend, to share. He was always on the bottom, always taking it…

He hates that he is savoring the sensations, enjoying the power he has over a person who once made him feel so small and stupid. But now he is giving it right back. Using his hips to incite the pleasure and something more… _Feel it. Fucking feel me._ He releases Stan’s legs and leans over him, takes hold of his hands and raises them over his exes head. _Trapped. Now you’re trapped_.

“I want you to feel me tomorrow morning…” He says matter of fact as he continues to move. “…when you _think of your_ assistant…” He is pumping so hard and so fast, he is surprised his voice is as calm as it is. “…when you think of me. Remind you of what you lost, _remind you_ of what you’ll never have again.” This is it. He summons as much energy as he can, uses his hips and thighs to fuck into Stanley, make him hurt, make him feel more than pleasure, bring forth that pain. “You’ll feel me everywhere.”

He’s panting, feels the exertion slowing him down, starts to shake from head to toe. _Harry_. He nearly chokes on a sob. _Harry, this is wrong. You’re right. You’re so right and I ache knowing I cannot be with you. I want your heart. Not this man under me. I want you_.

Louis keeps that beautiful face in his mind as he thrusts into Stan, uses his exes body as a vessel for his own need. _Harry…you’re perfect_. He thrusts some more. _Harry you bring me life_. He feels the tingling in his stomach, feels the orgasm growing the longer he thinks of those green eyes and soul that changed him, gave him meaning.

He is nearly there. He closes his eyes, pretends Harry is under him, envisages those moans are escaping past two pink lips, imagines those long legs are gripping him tightly willing him to continue, and those hands…those hands speak volumes on their own with a simple touch. He wishes it all, prays Harry will take him back even if it’s only for a short while. _It’s better than not having the opportunity._ He pictures Harry on his back with his hair all messy and mouth slightly ajar…the way he licked his lips and gripped his hair, the way he opened himself up.

And he reaches his climax with that picture in his mind, cums inside of Stan, rides his high until he is spent and in no way sated. He did what he wanted to, fucked his ex, felt _nothing_ towards the man even after hearing those three words, confirmed his suspicion. It’s a resounding relief.

He pulls out and looks down at Stan…he’s completely undone, such an emotional mess, and he doesn’t care. He cannot be in this position any longer, be this close to a man who _thinks_ he is in love. _You’re in love with yourself. Not me. Never me._

He stands, walks to the bathroom to clean himself and chances a glance at the mirror. _Mistake_. He was crying, his face is covered in tears, eyes red. _I need Harry_. He touches his belly to calm the butterflies. _Harry please_. He releases a sob. He runs from the bathroom and into the kitchen to retrieve his phone.

“I have to…” He sends the man a text.

[L]: I have to see you. I want to see you.

[L]: I made a mistake.

[L]: Please let me come over.

He swipes at his face.

[L]: I need your touch. I need your everything.

[L]: I need you.

[L]: Please let me know soon.

[L]: I think I am falling apart.

He quickly drops to the floor and buries his head in his hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to apologize for not properly tagging and adding the appropriate archive warnings.   
> I hope I did not offend anyone and I *really* hope this will not deter you from reading my future work.  
> I will do my very best to ensure all my tags are true to the story and give proper warning when necessary.
> 
> Again, I am very sorry.


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